


Not so Good Fellas

by 2Lot



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Angry Erik, Angst, Blood and Torture, Calm Down Erik, Crimes & Criminals, Dark Erik, Dubious Consent, Erik Has Feelings, Erik has Issues, Killing, M/M, Murder, Protective Erik, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Smitten Erik, Trauma, Violence, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 56
Words: 55,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3285176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Lot/pseuds/2Lot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Erik is a mob boss and Charles is blinded by love -until he isn't. By then, of course, it is much too late. Erik won't let him go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

x

The one time Erik sees Raven's brother is when he is picking her up in front of a restaurant downtown. He is startlingly beautiful standing there with the sunlight dancing off his unruly hair, lighting up cornflower eyes and a warm smile.

It's enough.

His name is Charles. Raven's not quick to volunteer more information than that, just like she probably didn't tell her brother whose car it is she routinely gets into. Erik can appreciate this as it comes with their business; giving away personal information is always risky, even when it is in front of allies.

Raven is an important asset and that alone would usually make him think twice about entertaining the thoughts he's entertaining.

But.

Raven sees him often, they're close it seems. Erik watches them, for moments at a time, unseen, hunger nagging at him.

He beds numerous people, people with dull hearts and sharp edges, with hard eyes just like his. And goes to sleep and wakes up to the thought of that ridiculous floppy hair and those cardigans that scream teaching assistant.

He denies himself...and craves and craves until the thoughts start to bleed into his work, all-consuming.

It simply will not do.

He changes tactics.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik is too good to be true, Charles thinks the first time they meet. 

It is parent teacher night at the primary school where he teaches science and, among the familiar crowd of grade schoolers and their respective parents gathered in his classroom, the tall, handsome stranger by the wall stands out immediately. He is impeccably dressed, dark shirt and dress pants under a coat that looks like it cost more than Charles' monthly salary. 

Charles makes his way through the crowd and, approaching, finally sees his newest student, little Pietro, holding the man's hand, talking excitedly while pointing at a self-drawn picture hung on the wall.   
Pietro was transferred to the school just two weeks ago. No wonder his father is unfamiliar.

“So nice to finally meet you, Mr. Lehnsherr,“ Charles extends a hand once he comes to a stop next to the two, “I'm Charles Xavier, Pietro's teacher.“

Lehnsherr turns to look at him, all chiseled cheekbones and bright blue-green eyes, and Charles almost misses the hand that is extended in turn. 

“The pleasure is all mine,“ Lehnsherr gives him a sharp smile that makes Charles' heart flutter and his knees weak.

It's the beginning of the end.


	3. Chapter 3

Charles falls much too quickly. Fast, and hard, and irrevocably.

Or so he thinks for a glorious six months.

Erik returns to the school soon after that first meeting, and it's obvious that it is not just for his son's benefit. The car they arrive and leave in is a black limousine that comes with a driver. And yet, Erik never fails to walk all the way to the classroom, always seems to run just a little late, and usually ends up being one of the last parents to retrieve his son.

It's not long till he comes to retrieve them both.

Friendly chats in the classroom turn to intimate conversations in various restaurants, parks, and similar venues.

Their courtship progresses faster than Charles is used to, but then, he has never felt a connection this intensely. He is not sure what exactly Erik wants with him, sees in him, when surely he could have his pick of many much more intriguing people. The man is insanely attractive, intelligent, well-mannered, and wealthy.

Charles is a disorganized teacher with virtually no salary, and though he knows he cleans up well, he usually walks around with his shirts buttoned askew and his hair uncombed, shadows under his eyes.

And yet, Erik looks at him like he's the most beautiful, most interesting man he's ever seen. He sits for hours and listens to Charles go on enthusiastically about some research paper he's recently read, or some new discovery, and the way he looks at Charles is no less enraptured than it is when they are alone in his apartment and Charles is straddling his hips, pulling off his shirt.

"That man looks at you like you hung the moon," his co-worker Moira comments once, somewhere between amused and envious.

It's more than most people dream to ask for.

Months go by with Charles ridiculously happy.

He sees Erik less than he'd like, but then, he understands that the man has important business to attend to and Erik is always with him when he has the time. Unlike Charles, he manages to leave work at work and never talks about it when they are together.

He grows close to Pietro as well, seeing him more often outside of school now. Erik, he comes to find out, is not a man who readily shows affection in public, but as reserved as he seems to the world, he is all the more affectionate with his son, and with Charles.

They are a family months before Erik puts a ring on his finger.

After that though, it is only a few weeks before it all comes crashing down.


	4. Chapter 4

The first indication that something is wrong presents itself on their six month anniversary of all nights. 

Erik has reserved a table at one of the best restaurants in the city and they eat, immersed in amiable conversation. Or at least Charles is, enthusiastically talking about his students, until he realizes Erik's attention has drifted, his shark eyes pinned somewhere over Charles' shoulder where the entrance is. Something flashes in his eyes, to quick to decipher but unsettling nonetheless. 

Blinking, Charles turns to follow his gaze but Erik grabs his hand, squeezing gently and when Charles turns back around to face him there is no trace of that odd expression left on his handsome features. 

“I'm sorry, liebling,” Erik pulls his hand up, gently placing a kiss on his knuckles, “I thought I saw someone from work. You were saying?” 

Charles doesn’t give it a second thought.

They leave the restaurant and walk to the car, Erik's arm casually slung around his shoulders. Charles snuggles into his fiance's side, slightly buzzed, slightly giddy at the thought of going to bed with his lover tonight.

Erik is driving for a change, having left his usual chauffeurs the night off in order to give him and Charles some privacy. Its not a common occurrence and Charles much prefers it, but once they are actually driving on the dark, mostly empty streets, Erik seems tense again, distracted. He looks into the rear view mirror too often and his fingers seem to clench around the steering-wheel every few seconds or so.

“Erik, are you sure you're alright?”

Erik visibly relaxes the set of his shoulders; his fingers ghost through Charles' hair for a second, a familiar, comforting gesture. 

“Well, since you're asking, I could do with a change of music,” he quips, jokingly mocking Charles' choice of apparently no-so-groovy-tunes. 

Charles smiles and leans forward to change the station. It is then that the other car collides with them. The seat belt digs into Charles' neck as they are catapulted towards the window and he cries out, half in pain, but mostly in shock.  
An accident, he thinks, half a second before the car slams into them again. He braces himself, clawing at anything, possibly crying out Erik's name as the car swerves dangerously, threatening to swivel. Erik is cursing in German, unintelligible, as he tears the wheel around and pushes on the gas.   
They race through the streets and Charles doesn’t open his eyes until the feels the car stop. He snaps them open when a hand curls itself around his arm. 

Erik's green eyes, too bright, too sharp, looking him over. “Are you alright? Did you hit your head?”

He shakes his head, trembling, still in shock.

Turning around, he tries to get a better look of the street behind them. Its empty, no car in sight. Erik has maneuvered them into a dark alley it seems. 

Charles huffs in relief at not being dead. “What the hell was that? Were those people trying to kill us?” 

It's not a serious question, of course not, when is it ever? 

His mind is already coming up with all kinds of scenarios which would explain the other car spinning out of controlled and hitting them. His thought process is derailed when headlights flash in the dark behind them and Erik leans over to his side, opens the glove compartment and pulls out a gun.   
Charles stares at it in shock, his mind refusing to acknowledge what his eyes are clearly seeing for a full five seconds. By then, Erik has already dislodged Charles' seat belt and opened his door, pushing him out of the car and towards the alley. He gets out on the other side of the car, facing the street, gun aimed in front of him.

“Charles, go towards the back of the alley.” Erik's voice is clipped. Charles stares at the set of his shoulders, the practiced, confident way in which he holds the gun, finger on the trigger. “Now!”

He flinches, stumbles back on unsteady feet at the sharp command. One step or so until his mind snaps back and he realizes what Erik is doing.

“Erik, no-” he hisses fearfully, only to be ignored. Erik's focus is completely on the street, on the approaching headlights. With ice in his stomach Charles watches his finger on the trigger tighten. 

The lights approach- and pass by. 

The street falls into darkness again. Not the same car. 

Charles sags in relief. 

Erik doesn't. Wordlessly, silently, he makes his way towards the street corner, still ready to shoot. Like he expects bloody assassins, and not some drunk driver or teenagers. Charles stares at his back, somehow unable to get himself to move. He dully wonders if maybe he hit his head after all, hard -but the sick feeling in his stomach grounds him in reality. 

After minutes, Erik finally returns. He pulls out his phone, dialing, in the same motion that he tucks the gun into the back of his pants. 

Wrong. Wrong, this is wrong, Charles' sluggish brain supplies belatedly. Everything. 

This is not normal. People have guns in their cars, he knows this, even if he hadn't known it about Erik and dearly wishes it wasn't so. But...even people who carry guns do not react in this way to a simple hit and run, do they? Erik is acting like those people in the car were trying to kill them, which obviously they weren't. Obviously. 

It's not that though. It's Erik. It's like...his whole being has shifted somehow, his movements, his eyes, all softness is gone from them. It's like he's looking at a different person. 

The sick feeling in his stomach intensifies. His blood is rushing through his ears, too loud, too fast. He can't hear what Erik is saying to whoever he is calling, and he is caught off guard when Erik's hand wraps around the side of his neck.

He jumps, breathless and frozen for a split second. Then, Erik tips his chin up, gentle, ever gentle, worried eyes seeking his and when Charles blinks his Erik is back, nothing but worry written on his features. 

“Charles, breathe out. It's safe.” Air rushes out of his lungs, deflating him. Erik's hands close around his arms before he can so much as stagger.   
“Logan's coming to pick us up. He'll be here in five minutes. Come on, we'll wait in the car.”

Not a word about what just happened. 

Erik ushers him towards the car and he goes, like he is on autopilot.

Logan arrives. Erik leaves his car, but not his gun.


	5. Chapter 5

Nothing comes of it.

Erik takes him home, and, clearly seeing Charles tension, he sits him down and tells him what he already knows. That many people have guns; that it is merely a precaution, nothing to fret about. 

Nothing Charles can argue against. 

Even though, Erik still apologizes for his overreaction, as he calls it, and for scaring Charles. Sweet and caring as ever. 

Charles honestly does not know how to react. Probably because he doesn't know what to react to. 

There is something, something fleeting and dark that he cannot put a finger on, a flicker of cold deep inside him - but nothing concrete to justify the feeling. Erik hasn't done anything outrageous or unheard of, maybe not even out of character considering Charles has not really known him that long. He was acting to protect them, to protect Charles, that much is painstakingly obvious though, and it makes him feel rotten for doubting Erik for even a second. 

He stops asking before he's ever really started.

Three days later, his friend Ororo, a social worker with the city, asks him to look after one of her charges for a while and he agrees, as usual. Jean is 7 and, though quiet and self-sufficient, her specific needs keep Charles busy enough to forget all about the incident in no time. 

While getting her settled in at his place, he has less time to see Erik, but the man does not complain, claiming he is also rather busy with work. 

Charles sees Raven more then usual in the following weeks; she is usually very busy with her work, but foster children are her soft soft due to her own past. She shows up nearly every evening of the week and she and Jean become fast friends. Charles revels in the rare domesticity their presence creates.   
He feels like a family with Erik and his son, but it is still not the same as having Raven back, and Jean reminds him of his little sister with her bright eyes and gleaming red hair. 

“So when am I going to meet that mystery man of yours, Charles?” Raven asks over cooking dinner.   
It's Wednesday and he hasn't seen Erik since Sunday.

“No mystery,” he smiles at her, “I keep telling you to make room in your busy schedule and have dinner with us.”

It's not just her, honestly. While Erik always seems to find time to see him, his schedule seems frustratingly incompatible with Raven's. 

“Work's busy right now,” Raven shrugs, non-committal, and, as usual, that's it. No concrete plans are made. Charles sighs inwardly. He just hopes he'll be able to get Erik and Raven to meet before they get married. 

“You know, Erik's son is about Jean's age,” Charles scoops equal amounts of vegetables on three plates, “I was thinking I should set up a play date.”

“I'm way too old for play dates,” Jean remarks tartly from where she is coloring on the floor.  
Charles smiles fondly in her direction, “Of course you are, darling. Come sit at the table. Dinner is ready.”

“I don't like spinach.” Jean pokes at the leaves on her plate in disgust.

“No one does,” Raven nods at her in solidarity, pushing one of her own chicken nuggets on the little girl's plate despite Charles clearing his throat in protest. “Except grumpy old people like Charles.”

Jean giggles and Charles cannot help a chuckle when Raven winks at him.

xxx

On Thursday, no one comes to retrieve Pietro from school. Erik has sent his driver for the past few days, but this day, even Logan is nowhere to be found on the school grounds. 

“Wait with me, will you?” He tells Pietro after all the other students have left. They walk over to the next class room to pick up Jean and Charles tries calling Erik twice. No one answers.

Odd. 

“Maybe he's in a conference,” he smiles at the boy, “We'll just drop you off at his office.”

To be honest, it would make more sense to just take Pietro to his own or to Erik's apartment; it's certainly better fro the boy to stay with him and Jean than to be pushed on one of Erik's high-strung secretaries.   
But, he hasn't seen his finance in days now and this is just enough reason to pay him a visit. 

A tiny part of him is nagging with worry at Erik not answering his phone and Logan not showing up as well, but he focuses on his first reason.   
Nothing's wrong. Erik miss-scheduled is all. 

If they get to the office and it turns out that Pietro cannot stay, they will just all go back to Charles' apartment. 

He navigates them through the city traffic to Erik's office in no time. He has only been here once, briefly, when Erik showed him around, but he remembers the address well enough. The office is in a gray, non-descriptive skyscraper, one of seemingly hundreds of business offices that all look the same. It all looks so similar that Charles almost has them get off on the wrong floor.

Finally though they make it. Charles pushes the door open for the children to enter the reception area and they are immediately spotted by the more malnourished-looking one of Erik's secretaries. Tammy? Tara?

“Mr. Xavier,” she looks oddly flustered at his appearance, almost nervous as she stalks towards them, “We weren't expecting you.”

Clearly. Erik's office door is closed, meaning he is probably in a meeting after all. No one else is around, Logan and Victor still not in sight.

“We're here to see Mr. Lehnsherr,” Charles says politely, pointlessly. Evidently they are.

“Mr. Lehnsherr said not to be disturbed, he is in an important conference. Perhaps you'd like to come back later,” she still sounds oddly stiff under her well-practiced politesse, “I could have him call you once he gets out.”

She could. 

“I think we'll just wait here,” he smiles at the woman and ushers the children onto the big leather couch in the waiting area. 

“But-” she seems at a loss momentarily, grasping for words, “If you went out for lunch...I'm sure the children-”

“I come prepared,” Charles opens his backpack and pulls out juice boxes and granola bars without missing a beat. “Maybe Erik will want to eat lunch with us once he's finished.”

He's not sure why he's this insistent, why he doesn’t just take the obvious hint that the timing is bad and goes. Perhaps he really misses Erik, perhaps he is still a little worried. Either way, they stay.

TammyTara leaves them be and busies herself at her desk at the other end of the room. Half his attention on Jean and Pietro's recount of their day, he still sees her punch letters into her phone, movements even more twitchy than usual.

It only occurs to him that she must have been informing Erik of his presence when the man's office door opens only five minutes later, much earlier than expected. 

Out rushes a ruddy, middle-aged man with an ill-fitting suit and a reef of thin hair around his sweaty forehead. He looks tense, stressed, beady eyes flickering back and forth in a disquieting way, and Charles feels uneasy for the second it takes the man to start moving past them.   
Charles turns his head to watch him scurry to the elevator, brows furrowed, but is distracted when Pietro jumps up from his spot next to him, squealing, “Vati!”

He turns back around to find Erik standing in the door, just opening his arms for his son.   
Hugging the child, he looks over at Charles and for a split second Charles feels that odd sensation again, that feeling that something is off. Then he blinks and Erik is smiling the way he always is and he and Pietro are walking over to the couch and Erik bends down to kiss Charles and the thought is gone again. 

They go out for lunch and Charles forgets all about the nervous man in Erik's office.

That is, until he sees him on the news one week later, dead, a mangled corpse pulled out of the city river.


	6. Chapter 6

Another one :) Thanks for reviewing :) 

To answer some questions, I'm not sure if Marko will appear yet, I'd have to Google him honestly. Don't know much about him as I've only seen the movies. And yes, Charles will catch on to Erik's game soon enough. Just layin some ground work first (and figuring out just how dark I want Erik to be).

 

On that note, in this chapter we are taking a closer look at two brothers. I don't know who I love more, Wolverine or Sabertooth. I guess I can take a vote on who might get some side-action in this story^^

 

Also coming up, Scott and Angel.

 

xxx

 

 

Charles turns off the news quickly so that Jean won't see it. Nevertheless, the dead man's picture on television burns itself into his memory.

Not much information was given, just enough to make it clear that this was no accident but a particularly gruel murder.

He calls Erik, truly afraid this time. What if he's in trouble? What if the men were involved in something? Is Erik in danger?

Erik tells him to sit tight.

20 minutes later, Logan knocks on his door and, in as little words as usual, lets him know that he is supposed to pick Charles up.

Charles goes with little protest, relieved that it is at least not Victor. Both of Erik's drivers slash assistants rarely interact with him as often as he sees them. They are respectful, polite, as much as their generally rough demeanor allows for, but it has always been obvious to Charles that this is likely just for Erik's benefit. With Victor, there always seems to be something, if fleeting glaces or body language, that make him feel uneasy in his presence; with Logan it feels more like the man just doesn't care, which, sadly, is preferable.

He doesn't expect there to be any conversation as they drive, he's been alone with Logan only a couple of times so far and the man's only ever given minimal answers to his polite questions.

The more surprised he is when, about 10 minutes into the ride, Logan's eyes find his in the rear view mirror.

"You look like you'd rather be goin' somewhere else."

It's an odd remark. Not a question even...he's not slowing down or changing the course...but then, of course not, he works for Erik, not Charles. Charles doubts he could commandeer him if he wanted to.

But why would he anyway? Why would Logan think he'd rather go somewhere else?

He checks himself and realizes that he must look the way he feels, nerves frazzled, scared. He wants nothing more than to go to Erik though, to see his fiance is alright, to let himself be reassured.

He blinks, confused. "What do you mean?"

Logan casts an odd look in his direction, but then only shrugs, "Nuthin' I spose."

It's a weird exchange.

Still, Charles feels oddly touched at what he thinks might be an expression of concern from the quiet, bear-sized man. "I'll be alright, thank you," he offers softly, unasked, "I just worry for Erik."

He doesn't get an answer, just another unreadable look.

They arrive in the underground parking garage and Logan opens the door for him just like he always does when Erik is there, then they walk in silence towards the entrance to the building.

Before they can reach the door it opens and Victor steps into the garage, sizing them up with one of his usual cold smirks. Charles shifts slightly; as always a bit uncomfortable around Erik's other assistant.

"Heading out again?" Logan asks, momentarily blocking Charles' view of the other man as he steps in front of him and into the doorway. Victor nods, catching the keys his brother tosses to him. "Just an errant. Be back soon. Have an enjoyable evening, Professor Xavier."

Brown eyes seem to flicker from his face to his neck for just a second.

Charles only nods, something about Victor's chilly smile leaving him at a loss for words. Both men have called him professor before even though he's told them that he is merely a school teacher, but it clearly hasn't stuck. Erik thinks it's funny and blames his cardigans. Charles doesn't know how to tell him that it's not the word, but the way Victor says it -the way Victor says anything- that bothers him.

'Have an enjoyable evening.'

He shivers slightly. That sounded...he doesn't want to think it but, suggestive...

Charles shakes his head as they walk down the corridor leading to the elevators. Maybe he's imagining it. And even if not...what could he say? He has nothing concrete to complain about, and Victor clearly is a competent employee, he's been with Erik for years.

"Don't mind Victor," Logan says as the elevator soars up to the 11th floor, his second unexpected attempt at conversation in one day.

Charles blinks at him. Is he looking worried again...or was there actually something to pick up on in Victor's behavior? Logan doesn't clarify though and then they are already standing in front of Erik's apartment.

The moment his fiance opens the door, Logan seamlessly falls into the background, vanishing without a word.

Erik immediately pulls him close, only pushing him away long enough to look into his face. Apparently he does look bad because concern etches itself into his lover's features.

"Tell me what's wrong."


	7. Chapter 7

Erik listens patiently as Charles tells him everything. Then he pulls him into his arms, as though he knows that it's the only thing that will ease Charles' tension.

“It's alright,” he murmurs as he lets Charles breathe into the shoulder of his suit, gently moving them over to the bedroom without letting go. “I'm in no danger. That man was merely a business acquaintance. I don't know what he got himself into, I knew he had money trouble, that's why he came to see me – but I had no idea something like this might happen.”

“You're not in danger,” Charles whispers, not sure if it comes out like self-reassurance or like a question. 

“No, I'm not, I promise, Charles,” Erik answers anyway. 

He pulls Charles closer, onto his large frame and leans them back on the bed. Charles traces the hard muscles under Erik's shirt, developed from years of martial arts training, feels the sheer strength the man is emanating even at rest, and it makes him feel a little better. 

Still....

He pushes himself up to look down at Erik's ever-calm expression. 

“But what if someone....” he swallows down the word 'murdered', unwilling to say it in connection to his fiance, “...if you did business with him someone might come-”

Erik brings up a hand to cup his cheek, shushing him with a thumb on his lips. “Do you trust me, Charles?” 

His eyes, liquid steel, tug at Charles heart. He sees so much in them, so much love sometimes, and yet, so often he feels like he sees nothing at all. 

“Yes, of course,” he shakes his head, “but, Erik-”

He's cut off when Erik, swift as a cat, flips him over, pushing him into the mattress. Charles never sees it coming, only has time to gasp and dig his fingers into Erik's sides reflexively, eyes wide for a second as he stares at Erik hovering over him, supporting himself on his elbows next to Charles' head, steady and sure like it's nothing. Not even his breathing's changed, Charles notes with amazement.

“Very impressive, overpowering a couch potato of a grade school teacher,” he huffs, only half joking.   
It is impressive, and he can imagine what Erik could do if he had to go up against someone bigger and stronger than Charles. 

“I have no one to be afraid of,” Erik says with a slight smirk, though the seriousness of earnest conviction never leaves his eyes, “And neither do you.” 

He runs the bridge of his nose along Charles' cheek before kissing his ear. “You never have to be afraid with me either. I need you to know that, Charles.”

“I do,” Charles nods, reaching up to run his fingers through Erik's hair, pulling him down for a kiss.   
Their lips meet, softly at first, but quickly more and more passionate. Erik trails kisses down Charles' neck, lowering his body until there is no air between them. Charles tilts his head back, pulling at Erik's hair as pleasure runs through him. 

“Mein Schatz, ich liebe dich...so sehr...” Erik's breath is hot in his ear, his body heavy on top of Charles'. It doesn’t feel confining though; it feels safe. More, it lets excitement spark through his limbs. 

“Love you more,” he whispers and Erik bites his collarbone playfully. 

“Let me prove you wrong.”

He lifts himself off of Charles long enough to rid them of their clothing. Long, slightly calloused hands trace Charles' ribs, and Charles finds himself shivering, gasping as Erik's lips and teeth set out to rediscover every inch of his skin. He arches, keening, when Erik nibs a little harder at his hipbone.  
“Erik-”   
The businessman pulls himself up Charles' body again, aligning them and entwining their legs, creating the most delicious friction and grinning wolfishly at Charles expression. 

“Tease,” he whispers breathlessly and Erik's grin widens. He kisses Charles, hot, open-mouthed, still for a second, before abruptly pulling Charles legs up and around his waist. 

“Never, love,” he grins. And holds his promise. 

Charles doesn't think of anything else that night. He lets himself be swept up, following Erik's movements like the tide follows the moon. 

x 

 

Du bist mein Mond, und ich bin deine Erde, (You are my moon and I am your earth)  
Sie sagen, du veränderst dich. (They say you're changing/transforming)  
Ich weiß es nicht, ich weiß nur, daß ich werde (I don't know about that; all I know is that)  
In meinen Nächten hell durch dich. (In my nights I light up through you)

x

(Info: I changed the order of the lines in this poem. It's fitting in its entirety but for the sake of brevity this will do. Poem by Friedrich Rückert.)


	8. Chapter 8

x

"Move in with me," Erik says later when they are lying side by side, tired and spent.

"Hm...?" Charles, who is half asleep on Erik's chest blinks, not sure he's heard right.

Erik pulls himself up so he can face Charles, his expression set, "I'm serious, Charles. We're getting married anyway, you have half of your things here...why wait? I'd feel better having you closer, especially now."

"I thought you said there was nothing to worry about," Charles murmurs into the pillow, brows furrowing just slightly.

"And I meant it. I just want you close. I don't want you to worry like that again." His fingertips brush a strand of hair out of Charles' face. "That way we'd see each other more often, too."

Charles smiles. That does sound nice.

"What about Jean though?"

He's not sure he can just uproot the little girl. She's met Erik a few times but he's not sure they are close enough to move in together yet.

"It'd be an opportunity to spend more time with her as well. Pietro would be happy to have her here, too, I'm sure."

Charles nods slowly, getting used to the thought. It probably is a good idea. Aside from having the benefit of seeing Erik more often, Jean will get to as well, and who knows how long she is going to stay with Charles...she should like Erik.

"I think..." he murmurs, off topic, "I think I'd like her to stay with me...I mean, there's a lot of things to consider, not least of all her opinion on the matter, but..."

He trails off, suddenly uncertain of Erik's response. He's been trying to broach the topic for a while now, but now he feels he has to say something at the latest. If Erik has a problem with it...

"I'm sure she'd love to stay with you." Erik interrupts his thoughts with a stubbly kiss to his cheek, "And hopefully, once she gets to know me better, she'll want to stay with us...for good."

Charles gazes up at his fiance in amazement, his heart somersaulting in his chest. After all this time he still cannot believe how great Erik is. To just accept and offer this, because he knows it will make Charles happy...

He presses a kiss to Erik's lips. "I will start looking into moving companies tomorrow. There isn't much stuff, but the lease is for another three months."

Erik smiles, pulling him close again. "Let me worry about that. Maybe I can pull some strings, get you out sooner."

Charles snorts, lightly hitting the man's chest. "Is there anyone in this city who doesn't owe you some sort of favor?" he jokes, yawning.

"Not if I have a say in it," Erik says quietly. Charles is too far drifted off to be able to tell if he sounds like he's joking.


	9. Chapter 9

xx

x

The next morning, Charles wakes up alone in bed.

There is a note from Erik on the pillow, stating that he's had to go into the office, and a text message from Raven letting him know that her spontaneous sleepover with Jean was a full success and that they are going out for breakfast.

Charles sinks back into the pillow with a huff, closing his eyes for another minute. He feels rather bad for having made Raven come over so late last night, but she seemed to understand that he needed to be alone with his fiance.

Thankfully, soon this won't be a problem anymore.

He smiles at the memory of Erik asking him to move in. It will still be a while, but the mere prospect of it makes him happy. He'll talk to Jean today, ask her how she feels about a move. Erik should probably come with him, spend some time.

Maybe they can head over together once Erik gets back.

Slowly, Charles gets up, carelessly grabbing Erik's shirt off the floor and shrugging it on. He fiddles with the buttons, rolls up the over-sized sleeves as he shuffles into the kitchen in search of coffee and food.

Erik always has precious little in his fridge, and Charles can't shake the feeling that it'd be less if he weren't here so often. He finds some eggs and he's frying them, humming quietly, and finally not worried for the moment, when he hears the apartment door open down the hall.

'Back so soon', he thinks with a smile, and grabs another egg, cracking it into the pan. The steps in the hall come closer and Charles turns, happily bounding towards the kitchen door.

He nearly runs into Logan as he rounds the corner, and recoils, startled, embarrassed, only to promptly stumble over his feet. Logan's big hands grab him before he can fall backwards, redirecting him and Charles gasps when his back roughly connects with the door frame. For a moment, he is breathless, wordless as he stares up at Logan standing over him in the small space of the door. Strong fingers, for a second wrapped fully around his upper arms, twitch before Logan very suddenly pulls back. He firmly sets Charles on his feet and then he is gone, out of his space in a blink.

"Watch who you run into, will ya?" he says gruffly, walking around Charles into the kitchen.

Charles' cheeks flame up in embarrassment.

"I thought you were Erik," he says defensively.

"Evidently," Logan pours himself a cup of coffee, uninvited.

He's not even looking at him, but somehow Charles still becomes acutely aware of the fact that he is wearing nothing but Erik's shirt, oversized, thank heavens, but definitely not something he wants anyone but Erik to see him in. Stupidly, he fumbles the rest of the shirt's buttons closed, as though that will make much of a difference.

Damnit, what is Logan doing here anyway?

"Where's Erik?"

"He's still in meetings. I'm sposed to take ya home, help you start packing."

Charles blinks in surprise. "Packing?"

"Your apartment. Mr. Lehnsherr's hired people to move your furniture."

"But my lease-"

"Landlord's let you off early. Last bill should be coming in on Monday."

It's incredibly fast, considering they only decided on it yesterday. Charles swallows, feeling weirdly uneasy for a moment. He shakes off the feeling. Erik's just being efficient and he agreed to this, wants this...he just figured he's have more time.

"That's...impressive," he says slowly.

Logan does look up at that, meeting Charles' eyes with an unfathomable expression. "You really think that."

Charles blinks, surprised at the odd response, unable to tell if it's a statement or a question.

"What do you mean?" he asks, uncertain, but before Logan can answer there's movement by the door and Charles turns to find Victor lounging in the doorway, looking him over with one eyebrow raised and his patented cold smirk in place.

"Good morning, Professor." This time Charles is positive that the way the man says 'good' sounds wrong...filthy somehow, and unease spreads through him, ten times stronger than it did with Logan.

"I'd appreciate a little warning if you both are just going to walk in here in the future," he says, pressed, doing his best to square his shoulders despite his ridiculous dress. "I understand you work for Erik but I'm sure there are no matters so pressing that we need to abandon all sense of propriety."

His tone is sour, and he's sure that if Erik were the one saying this, both men would be out the door in a second -or probably not even in in the first place. As it is, Victor merely looks at him with an expression somewhere between surprised and...is that bloody amusement making his lips twitch?

So there he has it then, he enjoys not even the illusion of respect here. For a Moment, he wonders what these men see in him, if they think him just some affair of Erik's that needn't be bothered with for too long, someone they don't have to take seriously just because he's wearing Erik's shirt and sleeps in his bed...

His jaw tightens in a sudden flare of anger. He's not expecting much, but this he certainly does not have to put up with.

"If you'll wait outside," he tells Victor tersely, stiff.

The man doesn't move for a long two seconds, that shadow of amusement still behind his eyes, then, though, he bows his head exaggeratedly, and steps back into the hallway.

"As you command," he replies, almost definitely with a shade of mockery.

Charles watches him disappear with clenched fists. Moments later, Logan steps around him to make his way to the door, clearly taking the hint that was mostly meant for his brother.

"We'll be downstairs, take your time."

He's out the door without a backward glance and Charles feels a tiny pang of guilt. Logan clearly didn't mean to overstep even if he did.

Either way, Charles is glad they are both gone for the moment, giving him the time to collect himself and dress.

Before he leaves he calls his landlord, wanting to make sure that he's being let out of his contract. The man, who is usually gruff bordering on rude towards him, sounds unusually tense, nervous almost as he is talking to him though. He can't seem to agree with Charles fast enough when he asks about the lease.

"Yes, yes, it's all in order, please tell Mr. Lehnsherr there will be no problems."

Charles hangs up with a frown. That was odd. What, did Erik threaten to call the IRS on the guy or something?

He shakes his head, making a mental note to talk to his fiance about being pushy like that. Sometimes he is so intense that he seems to scare people, and he cannot want that. It's not that he's not glad to be out of his lease but it's just no way to handle things, not by his book, and it's certainly nothing he wants Pietro and Jean to pick up on.

The thought of the kids makes him hurry out of the apartment and into the car. If they are going to be moving he needs to speaks to them first.

He tells Victor to drive to the school instead of his house and doesn't speak again for the entire duration of the ride, pretending he does not feel the man's eyes looking at him through the rear view mirror.

This problem, he won't mention to Erik. If he's ever going to earn any respect with Erik's employees, he'll bloody well have to show that he can handle himself.

"I'll drive myself home," he dismisses the man frostily when they stop by the school. He turns and walks away without a goodbye. Like hell will he let Victor into his home to pack his things.

Xxx

"Someone's decided they got spunk," Victor's eyes seem to flash darkly as he watches Xavier walk away from the car and into the school building. "Now I really wanna see that snobby attitude crack under pressure. Bet it would take nothing."

Logan scowls at his brother's words, "Watch yourself, Victor. You know Lehnsherr will quarter you if he even feels you're overstepping."

"He is fond of our pretty school teacher, ain't he?" Victor sneers, "Too bad that honeymoon won't last too long if the kid ever gets wind of what he really does to pay for all that luxury."

"It's none of your concern," Logan growls warningly.

Victor regards him with a knowing smile that does not reach his eyes. "It's none of yours either, brother."

Logan wisely chooses to drop the subject then. He knows there is nothing he can say from this point on that will not make things worse.


	10. Chapter 10

Charles plans on quickly grading some papers before heading on home and maybe calling Raven and Scott to help him start packing. He does not have classes that day, so he passes the time in the teachers' lounge, reading reports as he waits for Jean and Pietro to get out of class.

Things do not quite turn out that way.

Before the last bell has even run, a small commotion starts in the teachers lounge. Mr. Cohen, the school's resident art teacher storms in, shouting at the principal, and Charles looks up, surprised. 

“What's happened, George?” he asks. 

“I can tell you what,” Cohen fumes, “That new kid- Pietro just insulted me in my classroom and then hit me.”

Charles leaves his papers, curiosity morphing into worry instantly. “What do you mean?”

“What I said, Xavier,” Cohen snaps, “The boy punched me and I will not stand for it. This needs to have consequences.”

“Calm down, George,” the principal lays a hand on the tall man's shoulder, “ I need you to tell me what exactly happened.”

Cohen does with visible effort. Charles listens, incredulous as he recounts his version of events. 

“Like I said, the boys been disrespectful and wouldn't listen since he got transferred here. But today the students were supposed to paint their living circumstances and when I he failed the assignment and I told him so, he knocked over his painting and punched me. The boy is clearly not fit to be at a normal school-”

“Don't,” Charles cuts him off abruptly, “He's been in my class for weeks, he's a perfectly normal boy. If something happened there must be a reason for it, he would never just act out like that.”

Pietro is such a sweet child, very quiet, if not a little withdrawn sometimes, but he is one of the least aggressive kids Charles has ever met. 

“Let me talk to him?” he asks the principal and the old man nods tiredly. “I'm going to inform the parents.”

Charles winces. Oh no, Erik will have to come all the way down here, for nothing, just because Cohen is having a bad day. He certainly won't be pleased with that. It cannot be helped though. Protocol is protocol and he himself cannot make any valid decisions when it comes to Pietro, as much as he'd like to take this off Erik's busy hands.

Pietro is sitting on a plastic chair in front of the teachers lounge when Charles steps outside. He sits next to the little boy and waits silently for a moment. There are tear and snot tracks running down his chubby face and Charles feels a twinge in his heart at the sight. He pulls a tissue out of his pocket and hands it to the child. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened, Pietro, or do you want to wait for your dad?” he asks softly, startled when the little boy's head snaps up and he looks at him wildly. “Vati's coming?” New tears well up in his eyes, “But I didn't do anything, I didn't-”

“I don't believe you did,” Charles carefully dabs the tissue at Pietro's nose, “your dad knows you, Pietro. He won't believe Mr. Cohen over you.”

He doesn't push for more information, momentarily just focusing on reassuring his student. It seems to work. Erik is a strict but fair father, and Pietro seems to recall that. He will listen at the very least before he does anything. 

“I didn't mean to do anything,” Pietro sniffs after a short while of silent sitting and Charles looks down at him in surprise, “But Mr. Cohen said my picture was terrible...that I was stupid...again and again...that I can't stay in his class a-nd-” His small voice quivers, breaking, and before Charles knows it he is curled into his side, little shoulders shaking as he cries into his cardigan.

Charles hugs him, dismayed. That sodding Cohen guy. 

It is then that Erik choses to round the corner. 

He halts for a moment, seeing his son cry in Charles' arms, then his step takes on new stealth. He is standing in front of them momentarily. “What happened?”

Little Pietro flicnhes and Charles flashes Erik a warning look. If the principal told him anything on the phone he will be upset, but showing it in front of his son will only make things worse.

“There was a disagreement with the art teacher,” he tells Erik calmly, rubbing Pietro's back. “Apparently he did not like Pietro's work so he told him he was too stupid to pass the grade.”

Saying it alone makes him angry -but it is nothing compared to the expression that dawns on Erik's face at his words. One more look at his crying son and he's stalked into the teachers' lounge, no knocking, no questions asked.

“Mr. Lehnsherr-” He can hear the principal's worried voice before the door falls shut. Shite.

“Pietro, will you be alright here for a second. I'll be right back.” He disentangles himself, gently but swiftly, running after Erik. 

He thinks he is expecting the worst but it becomes very obvious that he had no idea what the worst was until he sees what is happening in the room.

“Your son is disturbed, he's antisocial and now violent!” Cohen is barking at Erik, ruddy-faced while the principal is wringing his hand behind his desk. “He doesn't need a school, he needs a shrink-”

“DO. NOT. Speak about my son like that!” Erik's voice is ice-cold, angry like Charles has never heard him. He's jabbing a finger in the teacher's direction warningly, taking a threatening step towards him. 

Charles steps in before things can get worse. He pushes down his own anger over the man's words for the moment and focuses on deescalation. 

“Erik, don't,” he speaks up, “there's no point. I will take care of this. Let's just go home-”

“Oh, so that's it!” Cohen jeers hatefully, suddenly interrupting him, “Well, that explains at lot! What's supposed to happen to a kid when his father and his teacher are both fucking f-

He doesn't get to finish the sentence. Before he can, Erik has grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt and slammed him into the next wall so hard that the man cries out in pain. 

Xx

Before Cohen can finish his sentence, Erik has grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt and slammed him into the next wall so hard that the man cries out in pain. 

His knuckles are white, jaw clenching as he wrings Cohen's collar, making the man choke and gasp for air.   
“That was an extremely stupid thing to say.” His voice doesn't sound like his own. Hard, alien, bone-chillingly cold.

Charles freezes, something about the sound twisting his insides painfully. He cannot see Erik's face but Cohen's face is red and frightened. The frantic look in his eyes makes every alarm bell in Charles' heard shrill.

“Mr. Lehnsherr!” The principal fumbles with the phone, possibly to call the security guard at the gate. 

“Hang up the phone,” Erik snaps at him and the man stills mid-motion, face white.

Charles snaps out of his shocked stupor about half a second later. “Erik!”

He dashes forward, pulling at Erik's arm to get him to let go - nononono- this cannot be happening-

Has Erik lost his mind? There will be repercussions for this, Cohen could sue, he could get hurt- what the hell is he thinking attacking him - ?

He pulls at Erik's arm harder, but it's like trying to move a boulder, his motion seemingly not even registering. Cohen's face is turning worryingly purple and Charles starts to panic. 

“ERIK!” he shouts. 

And finally, finally, Erik seems to hear him. He blinks slowly, like he's becoming aware of what he is doing, then his hands fall off of Cohen collar and he takes a step back. The art teacher collapses against the wall, sputtering incoherently. 

xx

Charles leaves the office feeling shell-shocked. He is functioning, taking Pietro's little hand when Erik makes no move to do so and walking them over to Jean's classroom. School is over by then and they pick up the girl, Erik silent in his shadow the whole time. 

There is so much Charles wants to say, ask, yell possibly...his emotions are in utter turmoil after what just happened. But he knows he cannot do any of it here, not unless he wants to upset the children and damage both of their reputations at this school even worse. God knows, it probably bad enough as it is. The principal’s let them go for now but Charles just knows he will have to face the consequences of this tomorrow. 

“Let me drive,” he says after he's buckled both kids into the back seat of Eriks car. 

“I got it Charles,” Erik shakes his head but Charles takes the keys out of his hand with a sharp look. 

“You're upset. You shouldn't be driving.” 

Erik's face tightens.“I'm not-” 

He breaks off, looking at Charles' face and likely seeing how close the other man is to losing his forced calm. He hands the keys over wordlessly, indulging his fiance's grapple for control in a situation that is long beyond fixing. 

The drive to Erik's apartment in silence. 

The entire ride Charles is brimming with tension, barely keeping it together for the children's sake. Erik seems impossibly calm impossibly fast after how he lost control in the teacher's lounge. Charles is not sure if it helps or if it upsets him even more.

He just cannot get the image of Erik attacking Cohen out of his head, the sheer aggression and violence in his actions. So unexpected, so unlike anything he's ever seen in his usually so calm fiance. He feels like someone has pulled a very comfy rug out from under his feet.

Once at the apartment, Charles sends the kid's to Pietro's room to start on their homework, promising to check in on them soon.   
Erik's in the living room, waiting for him, and Charles walks in, already feeling sick from what he fears will be their first actual fight. He doesn't want to fight...but he can't not say anything, can't not ask Erik what the hell happened...

“What happened back there?” He hopes he sounds calm, not shaken and sick like he feels.

Erik's face is dark as he takes off his coat, dropping it onto the couch. He's not looking at him. “I know what you want me to say. He deserved it, Charles.”

Charles stares at him, shaking his head incredulously. “That's not the point, Erik. What- how--” He can't even word his issue properly. How can he tell how disturbed he was by seeing the man react this way, how it scares him, how it makes him feel like he doesn't know Erik? He doesn't want to say any of that, doesn't want to give it realty, but-

“What did you think attacking Cohen would do?” he asks instead, desperate, “Things will be so much worse now. He could sue...I could get fired-”

“This was about my son!” Erik snaps and Charles does his best to not cringe internally at his tone. 

“Yes, it was,” he shoots back, “And Pietro needed you to handle the situation calmly, to reassure him, not make it worse by further antagonizing the man who grades him.”

“He's not going to be his teacher any longer.” There is anger even in the way Erik rips at his tie as he takes it off. “That man has spent his last day at that school.”

“Erik!” Charles step forward, grabbing his fiance's arm before he can get to his shoes. He almost thinks the man will shake him off but Erik stills, looking down at him, a storm brewing in his gray eyes. He's not angry with Charles, he can see that instantly and it helps him stay focused and grounded. “Erik, that's not important right now,” he says, still firm, but with soft eyes. “Your son is upset in the other room. He needs you now, that's much more important. Take care of him and let me handle this. Please.” Charles stands tense, shoulders squared. Erik's face is still so dark, so tight; he half expects the to lash out at him then, to tell him to mind his own charge, not Erik's son. Instead, he gets to watch as Erik's face slowly relaxes, the eyes looking at him finally becoming clean of anger and showing understanding and regret.

“You're right.” Erik's voice is soft again, and his shoulders relax, his stance losing it's aggressive energy. He breathes out, rubs his eyes in a gesture of exasperation. “You're right.” His hand covers the one Charles has placed on his arm, lightly squeezing. “I'm sorry. I know I overreacted...and now I'm taking it out on you when all you're trying to do is help.” Charles breathes out at the tension seeping out of the space between them. He lets Erik wrap both hands around his smaller one and kiss it. Despite everything, the motion is welcome, soothing his frazzled nerves. “I'm sorry you had to see me like that,” Erik murmurs, face stricken, “I know I was wrong to- I just felt so angry at what he said about Pietro...and you.” Charles can't bring himself to interrupt him for more of a lecture. Erik's honest shame and regret paralyzes him, dragging up his own feeling of injustice and anger of what happened to them today. Cohen was so vicious...so disgusting...Charles doesn#t know what he would have done if someone had talked about his child that way. 

“We can fix this,” he says automatically, the impulse to protect his loved ones taking over all his other turbulent emotions. “We'll talk to the school, apologize, explain....whatever is needed.”

Maybe Cohen won't press charges.

“I'll do it,” Erik shakes his head, “You're right, I don't want to drag you further into this or endanger your job. I will go back to the school now, fix things.”

“No-” 

Though Erik looks nothing but rueful and earnest, Charles feels immediately worried that Erik will go back and become angry again, this time without him there to prevent the worst. He looks calm and understanding now, so much so...like he's not capable of aggression at all. But then...that's what Charles thought before today, too.

“It's alright,” Erik strokes his forearm reassuringly, “I promise. I'm not gonna get into any more arguments with that man, I know there's no point. I will just tell him what I need to to make this go away.”

Charles wants to tell him no, but Erik looks so convinced, so sure of himself that he cannot find the words.

“You need to talk to Pietro first,” is all he can manage in the end. 

Erik nods, taking his face in both hands and kissing his cheek in thanks before walking out of the room.   
Charles sinks down on the couch, suddenly feeling to weak to stand. 

Xxx


	11. Chapter 11

With Erik gone into Pietro's room to speak to his son, Jean wanders out into the living room and cuddles up next to Charles on the couch. Her sudden presence rips Charles out of his reverie and he shakes his head to clear it.

"Are you okay?" The little girl asks him, her bright, unusually perceptive eyes looking up at him.

Charles feels a twinge of guilt at the realization that he has made her feel insecure despite his best efforts to hide that there is a problem.

"Yes, darling. Everything's alright." He takes her little hand. "How about you? Are you alright...living with me...but also that we see Erik and Pietro so often?

He's been meaning to ask at a better time, today is clearly not the day to break the news to the kids, not with everything else going on and him so upset still. But precisely because of that, the urge to know that Jean is alright at least is stronger than ever.

The little girl nods slowly. "I like living with you. I like Pietro and Erik. I don't want to go back to the foster home." It's like she can read his thoughts, much too smart for her age.

"You don't have to," Charles strokes her hair, going with the flow of the conversation. He wasn't going to bring this up either, but now she is. "You can stay with me for as long as you want to, Jean."

"Then I want to stay forever." Her brilliant smile goes a long way to settle the unease that he still feels churning in his stomach.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, Jean watching some program while Charles mostly stares at the TV, giving his mind a break. At some point, Erik comes back into the room, Pietro on his arm. The little boy seems to have calmed down considerably and he is hugging his father's neck tightly. Charles smiles up at them in quiet relief and Erik squeezes his shoulder in turn.

Erik stays, doesn't go back to the school or to work even. The rest of the afternoon they spend as a family, watching kid's movies and eating popcorn. It's familiar and welcome, and so, so beautiful. The warm, comforting domesticity of it slowly but surely melts the cold Charles has been feeling on the inside since the incident. This is how it could always be, he thinks as he watches Jean and Pietro sing along to Disney tunes, jumping on Erik while he playfully tries to fend them off, a rare laugh on his face. It feels right. Like family. Like home.

Erik makes spaghetti with meatballs for dinner and Charles tells stories about his and Raven's childhood, what mischief they used to get up to, making both kids squeal in delight.

He is so at ease that he doesn't seen see it coming when Erik starts a more serious discussion out of nowhere. He's talking about family at first, about how important it is, but then he is suddenly telling the kid's about the move.

"What do you think?" he's asking before Charles can even try to dissuade him or mention the bad timing. "We really want you to be okay with it, but I'm certain it will be great."

It's too late to protest.

Charles feels tense for the few seconds it takes him to realize that the kids are not reacting badly.

Jean is incredibly excited, apparently taking this as confirmation that she gets to stay for good; she is immediately going on and on about how she is going to redecorate her new room and how she is going to show her friends. Erik is listening with a smile, squeezing Charles' hand over the table and Charles can't help but smile back.

Oh well, he thinks...maybe the timing wasn't so bad after all. Jean seems all too happy and Pietro seems fine too, not more upset like Charles was afraid he might be at another big change.

After ice cream, the kids are instructed to brush their teeth and go to bed. It's later than usual for them and they still have school tomorrow.

The thought of that makes some of Charles' concerns resurface. "Don't worry," Erik tells him as they are cleaning up in the living room, "I told him not to worry about going back to school, that we'd take care of it. He understood."

Indeed, Pietro doesn't seem particularly bothered as he jumps into bed and cuddles up with his favorite teddy bear. Charles smiles in the doorway as he watches Erik tuck his son in. Children bounce back so fast, thank heavens.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Erik says as he walks out of the room and towards their bedroom, "See you in a minute."

Charles hums in affirmative and looks after him for a moment, torn. He wants to talk to Pietro too but... Erik said he was fine. He is considering walking back into the living room for a bit, but then Pietro calls his name and he walks into the dimly lit room and sits down by the boy's side.

"Everything alright?" he asks as lightly as he possibly can.

He's not doubting Erik, no, not trying to meddle where there's nothing to fix, but Pietro asked for him and he's just saying good night, not being over-bearing.

"Are you really going to move in with us?" Pietro asks in a small voice, small face slightly pinched and worry rolls over Charles like a wave. Were they too quick, too presumptuous after all? Does Pietro not want him here and just didn't want to tell his happy father?

"Not if you don't want me here, Pietro," he says earnestly, "It's your house, too, so you get a say. Is there something you want to tell me?"

The little boy looks up at him quietly for a long moment, seemingly torn, and Charles' heart sinks.

"I want you to live with us," Pietro finally shakes his head, "but...if you come here...are you gonna leave some day...like my mommy did?"

The question stuns Charles it is so unexpected.

Oh. Oh. He's quick to catch on, to understand that Pietro is not opposed to him staying but afraid of him leaving. "What- no, of course not," he shakes his head, "I'm going to marry your dad. I'm not going to leave either of you."

The little boy smiles, seemingly reassured, and cuddles into his pillow with a smile. "Okay."

Charles sits for a moment, silent, looking down at him, thoughts running through his head in rapid succession. Not only was he not expecting this...he didn't know Pietro even remembered his mother. From what he knows Erik was never married to her and she has been out of the picture for a long time. He has to admit though, he does not know why she left in the first place...

"Pietro...you know that even if a mummy and a daddy split up it's not the child's fault right?" he asks carefully, not sure what Pietro has concocted up in his head but worried. "I'm sure that whatever happened, your mummy did not want to leave you."

To his surprise, Pietro nods. "I know. She wanted to stay but daddy made her go away."

xx

Erik is half asleep when he gets into bed.

"Everything alright?" he mumbles as he pulls Charles' back against his chest.

"Hmhm," Charles hums noncommittally, glad when Erik lets it go. He wouldn't have known what to say honestly. There is something on his mind, something nagging at him, bothering him, but at this point he is not sure anymore what exactly it is. He is not mad at Erik anymore, not even particularly worried...it's just-

'Daddy made mommy go away.'

He doesn't know why Pietro's words keep ghosting through his head, keeping him awake and staring at the wall while Erik sleeps soundly at his back. They can mean any number of things, an expression of how Pietro dealt with Erik winning custody for him likely, completely normal. And yet...

'Are you going to go away, too?'


	12. Chapter 12

Keepin it flowin^^ 

Thanks for the lovely reviews as always, they make me wanna write faster lol. 

About Charles being naive and Erik being too nice and giving in too quickly...yes it is out of character for both. They are just both trying really hard to make their relationship work, because they don't want to lose the other, so they are holding back quite a lot I would say. Charles with his willful ignorance, because his subconscious is telling him that if he starts asking questions it will all start crumbling down, and Erik who is lying so much when usually he would just be direct and not care. Remains to be seen how long that will work and who will crack first...

 

x

"I just think it's kinda fast, that's all," Raven says the next day as she watches him pack up some boxes before going into work.

He's a mess, all ruffled hair and shadows under his eyes from getting up really early and driving from Erik's to his place. Raven looks impeccable, not a shiny blonde hair out of place over her designer dress. She's made coffee so strong that one sip made Charles gag.

"It's not fast at all," he hoists a box onto the table. Too many books, way too many. "We've known each other for almost a year now. You just think that because you've never met him."

Raven shifts guilty. "And Jean is okay with this?"

"She loves the idea more than me, trust me," Charles huffs.

"As long as you know what you're doing," Raven takes another sip of her brew from hell, concern etched into her round face.

Charles shakes his head at her oddness; he has bigger worries today.

His first class is not until 5th period but he goes in early to speak to the principal, to settle things but also to make sure he still has his job. He is prepared to grovel, to lie and apologize over and over, but, to his surprise, the principal merely waves him off.

"Don't worry, Mr. Xavier, it's all been cleared up already."

"It has?" Charles blinks, surprised.

"Yes, Mr. Lehnsherr gave me a call this morning, he, um, explained everything. I fully understand, it's nothing to worry about anymore. I'm sure the boy will be in the best hands with you and no more incidents will happen."

He looks odd saying this, like he is putting a lot of effort into seeming nonchalant. Charles looks at him, brows furrowed. Really? Erik managed this? And this fast? What did he say? Did he make a donation or something?

He walks past Mr. Cohen's classroom on the way to his own and stops by there, too, wanting to make sure that the man will not be hostile towards Pietro from now on. When he steps into the room, Cohen literally jumps, casting a startled look over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he says before Charles can even form a sentence.

Charles blinks, dumbfounded. Cohen looks pale, sweat beading on his forehead as he throws things from his desk into a cardboard box without looking. "I was completely out of line yesterday, and I apologize. It won't happen again."

"Uh, thank you..." Charles trails off, eyes narrowing in on the box. "Are you packing?"

"Yes, I've quit. I'm not a teacher here anymore."

Cohen rushes past Charles before he can ask any more questions. Halfway down the hall he stops though and turns once more, finding Charles looking after him.

"Tell...tell Mr. Lehnsherr I'm sorry, yes? I'm really sorry, I didn't know."

And with that he's gone.

Charles goes from feeling confused to feeling shocked to feeling sick.

What the bloody hell has Erik done?

x

"Nothing, Charles," Eriks says, "I called the principal and explained the situation, that's all. He told me that the issue had already gone in front of a board and that they decided to fire the teacher. Apparently that wasn't his first time bullying a student."

There is no trace of dishonesty on Erik's face, nothing in his words that doesn't make sense.

There is only Cohen's pale face and Pietro's worried voice in the back of Charles' head.

"Okay," he says.

x

"You never talk about Pietro's mother," he makes sure to say it like it's not important at all, just a fleeting thought that's come to him over making lunch. "Does she live close by?"

Erik looks a him oddly for a moment, and Charles' breath catches, worried he'll think something is wrong. But nothing is wrong, and he is just asking a normal question. One he should have asked a long time ago.

"No," Erik says, just a millisecond slow, "She's dead."

Charles' head snaps up and he stares at Erik in shock at that answer.

Erik frowns. "We were never close. She didn't tell me she'd had a child until three years after Pietro was born. She was a drug addict by then, using regularily, and I was gonna fight for custody, but before the case could go to court she overdosed."

He closely watches Charles who is standing pale, his menial task forgotten. "That's terrible."

"Yes, it is. Luckily Pietro seems to have suffered no trauma from that time. I don't even think he remembers her properly."

Charles swallows hard, Pietro's voice swimming in his head.

"Oh." He makes himself turn back towards the cutting board on the kitchen counter.

"Why do you want to know?" Erik asks after a moment of silence, in that very same tone of nonchalance Charles just used on him.

He shakes his head, dismissive, light. "I was just wondering whether we needed to invite her to the wedding."

"No. And there's no other family either."

Charles already knows this from the guest list. No one from Erik's past. No friends, no silblings, just business aquaintances.

"Okay," he says, again.


	13. Chapter 13

Charles says he'll hire a moving company.

Then he doesn't.

He tells Erik he's so busy at school that he keeps forgetting. He couldn't give another reason, not even to himself.

There is just something inside him that silently stills his hands whenever he tries to pick up the phone book.

After a week, Erik tells him, very sweetly, not to worry about it anymore, and that he'll just get his own guys to do it for free.

Charles sets out to protest, but there is nothing he can say really, not without saying something he doesn't want to.

The men that show up are thankfully not Logan and Victor, and they are nowhere near as rude or condescending. They introduce themselves as Alex, Sean, and Darwin and they are nice and funny and polite. Charles actually has a surprisingly good time with them.

One day later he is completely moved into Erik's apartment, his former keys dropped off with his landlord.

"Welcome home," Erik smiles when the last box has been opened and stored.

Charles hugs him tightly, wishing that the love he feels for Erik was strong enough to drown out the heaviness in his chest.

xxx

People look at them oddly.

Charles has never noticed it before, but once he does he is not sure how he could have missed it. It is so obvious.

When they are out in the city, whether it is at a restaurant or social function, everybody is looking at Erik. He used to notice some of it, always attributing it to Erik's obvious wealth and good looks.

Now though, he can't help but feel like people are less impressed than...wary. The way they give Erik spaces when he walks, the express politeness and attention that comes his way, people always jumping over themselves to get him everything he needs.

It's not admiration, he finally realizes, it apprehension.

Erik makes people nervous.

He doesn't want to see it that way, because there is no possible explanation for it, but he cannot ignore the obvious once he's seen it.

What is it, he wonders, for days. Erik is commanding, yes, harsh sometimes and not exactly warm towards most people, but he is not intimidating or even scary.

Not towards Charles he isn't.

Xxx

It is in Erik's favorite restaurant on a Saturday night that they meet Sebastian Shaw.

Charles doesn't recognize him, not when he is walking towards their table, not when Erik stiffens next to him, and not when the man casually sits down in their booth like he's been invited and starts chatting to Erik about the old times.

Erik is eerily silent for most of the conversation, apart from a few clipped answers and Charles sits quietly, feeling half forgotten, at a loss until Shaw unexpectedly addresses him, complimenting him on his eyes.

"Why, Erik, aren't you a lucky boy to have eyes like that looking at you with such devotion?" The man gushes, making Charles feel slightly self-conscious. "What I wouldn't give for a pair of eyes like that."

"Leave."

It's the first word Erik has spoken in what seems like minutes, but it cuts like a knife, icy and sharp. Charles eyes flicker to his fiance's face, finding he hardly recognizes him, so dark is his expression.

Shaw tsks, seemingly amused, and stands. "Pleasure to meet you, Charles. I'm sure we'll meet soon again. Oh, and Erik," he pauses, smiles, "I was dismayed to hear about what happened with John Maher. I'm glad to see you're taking care of yourself."

He leaves and Erik's eyes don't leave him until he is out the door. His phone is in his hand and he is typing fast without looking.

"Erik?" Charles asks, voice small, pressed, and Erik blinks, shaking his frightening expression off like a veil.

"Sorry," he then murmurs, pulling his attention back to them, to the meal.

"Who was that?"

"Just an old business partner," answers without answering, like usual. "We ended things because of...creative differences. He's been begrudging me my success ever since."

After that all Erik will talk about is the fish and how it goes with the wine. Charles listens with only half an ear, distracted trying to remember where he's seen the man's face before.

It doesn't come to him, and without a name he has nothing to go on. When they are back at home and Erik has gone to sleep, he types the second familar-sounding name, John Maher, into his search engine.

Him he does know. It's the dead man from the river, from Erik's office. His name was in the newpaper, and in the mouth of Erik's old business rival.

He calls Scott.


	14. Chapter 14

Charles tells himself that it's been too long since he's caught up with Scott anyway. He tells himself that he just doesn't want to distract Erik from his files when he doesn't tell him who it is he's going to meet for coffee.

"Have fun with your friends." Erik leans up to kiss him and then turns back to reading.

Charles waves at Jean and Pietro where they are playing on the carpet and leaves before he can change his mind.

He's doing nothing wrong, he reminds himself. So what if Scott also happens to be a detective with the local police department? So what if after about 10 minutes of polite small talk he just so happens to mention the dead man in the river?

"That was a bad one," Scott frowns into his bagel, "Angel and I weren't on that case but the whole station was talking about it -still are to be honest. We have a lot of mob activity in the city, and we know there are wars going on between the families, but it's been a while since one of them has sent the other a message out in the open like that."

"The mob?" Charles blanches. That man in Erik's office was connected to organized crime? All his worry is back in full force instantly and the bagel he's been chewing suddenly tastes ashy in his mouth.

Does Erik know this? Or is he actually oblivious to how much danger he might be in by association?

"Maher was leading a crime family?"

Scott shakes his head. "No. He was in the lower ranks. The man who runs the family is called Sebastian Shaw, I'm sure you've heard of him."

He must have. Must have read some article in some paper years ago, fleetingly.

It's enough.

With a sinking feeling comes realization. He pulls out his phone and with shaking fingers types in the name Sebastian Shaw. Google mercilessly provides him with a picture of the man they've recently met at the restaurant.

He forces himself to breathe.

"Is this him?" he shows Scott the picture.

"Yes. He's infamous. One of the worst criminals this city has seen in decades. Charles? What's wrong?"

Everything. Everything is wrong. Charles feels like he is going to be sick, that's how scared he suddenly feels.

"I think Erik is in trouble," he forces out, breathless.


	15. Chapter 15

"What's wrong?" Scott asks and Charles doesn't even hesitate before telling him everything.

The car that followed and hit them, Erik's nervousness and the gun, Maher in Erik's office, Shaw at the restaurant.

Scott's expressions turns graver by the second, and Charles begins to feel panicky inside. He wanted for Scott to reassure him, not...not this...

"He just showed up out of nowhere and started talking about Maher," Charles' voice is shaking just like his hands. "Erik said they were old business partners...but what if he just didn't want to tell me that he was in trouble? What if he started doing business with Shaw before he knew...and, and then he got out, cut ties, and now Shaw is back and won't leave him alone- and, and he killed Maher to send Erik a message, to threaten him-"

It explains everything. Why Erik thought he needed a gun, why he was so nervous, so unhinged. Oh God, he's in danger. Scott needs to put a protective detail on him, on the kids -dear god- immediately.

He's so swept up in his fearful thoughts that Scott shaking his head barely registers with him.

"No, Maher was working for Shaw. His murder wasn't a threat by Shaw, it was a threat towards him."

Charles blinks distractedly, his thoughts at home. What is Scott saying? Shaw is the bad guy, the threat.

"Scott, you need to send someone to protect Erik and the kids."

That's all that matters now, all that-

"Charles," Scott is looking at him, grave, worried, "What is Erik's last name?"

"Lehnsherr. Erik Lehnsherr." Charles breathes out, relieved.

Scott will put a protective detail on Erik, and Erik will be pissed...but it's for the best, it's to protect all of them, so Shaw cannot get to them. He's on his phone already, dialing Erik's number to warn him when Scott puts a hand over his, stopping him.

Charles looks up at him, disturbed, feverish. He wants to pull away, but the expression on his friend's face stops him in his tracks.

Scott's features contort, shock and something akin to horror disfiguring him. He swallows, opens his mouth, closes it again. Charles stares at him, confused, impatient and scared. "Scott, what is it?"

"Shit...you have no idea, do you?" Scott looks sick, miserable, but most of all worried. Worried for who?

"Charles, I'm sorry, I wish I didn't have to say this but...Erik Lehnsherr is not in danger from the mob. He is the mob."

x

Charles stares for a second.

Then he laughs.

Scott doesn't join in. "I'm so sorry," he says again and Charles suddenly feels angry.

"He's not," he says, too harshly, "What are you talking about, Scott? He's my fiance."

Scott isn't joking clearly, but he' still wrong. He's made a mistake, gotten something mixed up.

Lehnsherr is not a common name, not at all, but of course Scott is wrong. He hasn't met Erik yet, but Charles has told him all about him. How kind he is, how caring, how gentle...how he loves children, how he takes care of Charles. How could he possibly think-

"He's a business man," he says stubbornly, stupidly.

"He runs the German syndicate," Scott is more firm now. He leans forward. "It's practically public knowledge, Charles. They control the entire East end. Two of his men are suspects in Maher's murder...I'm so sorry...if I'd known sooner- I should have looked into him, met him-"

"Stop it!" Charles shouts, loud enough to startle Scott, himself, and half the people around them.

He's truly angry now, or is it scared, no it's not...it's angry.

How can Scott even suggest-

Scott looks at him, misery written all over his face. He pulls out his work phone and goes through it quickly, pulling up one of the virtual files his department keeps on record. "This isn't public," he says as he hands over the phone, "but I need you to look at it."

Automatically, Charles takes the phone and stares, scrolls through the files without blinking, expression blank. Erik's face glares up at him from numerous surveillance pictures. There are no arrest records, but dozens of files connecting Erik to various crimes committed in the past 15 years. Horrible, grueling, bloody crimes. Theft, extortion, money laundering, disappearances, deaths. Deaths. Murders.

He flings the phone at Scott, pushing to his feet so fast that he nearly knocks over the chair.

"I have to go."

He makes to storm past Scott without looking at him, but his friend is faster, jumping up and grabbing his arm before he can leave.

"Charles, wait...you can't just go. What are you going to do? If you weren't in danger before, you may well be now! If you confront Lehnsherr-"

"I'm not." Charles rips his arm out of Scott's grip and rushes out of the cafe.

He's not.

Erik's not any of that...he's not that file. It's a mistake, slander, all of it.

It cannot be true.


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks for reviewing! 

Questions...lemme see if I can recall it all: Can't say what Scott will do yet sorry^^ Get people into trouble? Yeah. Who? Weeeell...

Hank will show up, yes, soonish. Hadn't thought a pairing yet tbh but we'll see^^ The other guys, I know they are good people, but you know they could just be handy men, I'm sure mob bosses don't just have stone cold killers on their pay lists. Maybe they are just people who do a job and look the other way if they see stuff like money laundering or hear incriminating convos going on...I dunno. 

About Charles not having heard of Erik. Well, as Scott said he has never been officially connected to any crime, so he would not have been on the news. The Police obvsly know, and a lot of business people in the city probably know because they have to pay protection money or god knows what. So, yeah, it's not public public kowledge. Like, Moira doesn't know either. Teachers. lol.

(Side note: Erik not being as candid as some other people *cough Seth*...that was just a different situation to begin with. Reid knew Seth was a bad guy from the start and Seth didn't want him to think otherwise. Erik, so far, is trying to take the easy road because he probably suspects, lol, that Charles might react badly to finding out the truth and he'd rather not have that. Gosh, thanks for reminding me how grieveously negligent I've been when it comes to my other story. Gotta pull myself together there, sigh...I have posted some new chapters this year though :))

About Charles' reaction now that he knows. I'm sure he'd love to keep lying to himself. Will that remain a possibilty though...see for yourselves^^

 

x

Charles wants nothing but to go home, to tell Erik everything and have the man tell him that he's right, that it's not true, that it's a mistake.

He thinks he is driving home but somehow he ends up on the side of the road, clutching the steering wheel with white knuckles and hyperventilating.

When he can breathe again, his thoughts are still a jumbled mess. He doesn't trust himself to drive, much less to make any rational decisions.

He calls his sister.

Raven listens to him quietly. Very quietly. The moment he mentions Erik's last name she becomes virtually mute.

"Charles," she finally says, "I'm going to look into this. I know some people, I will ask around. Don't do anything until then, okay? Promise me. Don't call Scott. And don't call Erik. Go somewhere else and wait there."

"But-" Charles protests for what feels like the hundredth time, though this time it's accompanied by traitorous, unwanted tears brimming in his eyes. "Jean-" His voice cracks over the word. He has to go home, to the kids, they'll be home from school soon. Erik's working late today, he's dropped them off at class for Charles but he has to go get them-

"Wait until you're sure you can drive," Raven says calmly, firmly, "then go to the school and pick them up. Take them to Moira's. I will come by when I know more."

"Raven-"

"It's going to be alright, Charles, I promise. Just be safe." She hangs up the phone.

After she hangs up it takes Charles a long minute to just get his breathing under control again.

Just as he thinks he's caught himself, his phone rings once more.

Erik.

Charles grabs the phone instantly, almost dropping it in his haste.

"Erik-"

"Hello, darling," Erik's voice is warm and velvety as always. Not the slightest difference. Of course not. Charles wants to punch Scott. Himself mostly.

"Hey," he answers quickly, wiping away stupid tears with force, "Everything alright? Are you working?"

"Yes, unfortunately, we've had some troubles with another firm." He sounds mildly irritated, stressed. "I have to go and let them know they can't just walk all over us. Might be even later than I thought, sorry."

"Oh, okay." It sounds so normal, so everyday...and yet Charles cannot help but flash back to Scott's files...rivaling mob families...

He shakes his head harshly. Stop it. 

"I'm going to take Jean and Pietro to see Moira, maybe we'll see a movie."

"That sounds nice," Erik sighs, exhausted, "I know it's been busy these past few weeks. I'll have more time soon. Then we can talk about some things...I can meet Raven and your friends..."

"Yes," Charles says, voice suddenly thick again, "I have to go."

He can't let Erik hear.

If the man notices anything, he doesn't mention it. "Alright, I will see you soon. I love you."

Charles wants to tell him the same but he doesn't trust his voice anymore, so he merely hums an affirmative and hangs up.

xxx

"What the hell are you doing with my brother, Erik?!" Raven sounds livid in the message she left on his phone. "Call me back the instant you get this, we need to talk."

Erik frowns as he snaps shut his phone. Normally, he'd be having a word with Raven for talking to him in this tone; as it is, he is more concerned with what she's saying.

There are several ways in which Raven could have found out. She has her eyes and ears everywhere. He's not surprised as much as he is slightly worried.

This does not fit into his time schedule.

Eventually, both she and Charles had to find out, of course. But he wanted it to be in his time, on his terms. Raven sounded mad just now...if she's mad enough she might try to sabotage him, despite knowing fully well how stupid that would be. She might tell Charles the wrong things, might cause all kinds of problems.

That just won't do.

Erik grinds his teeth, tense. He will have to deal with her after he is done here.

"Have we found Bennet yet?" he asks Victor impatiently.

Frank Bennet is the man who gave Shaw intel on him, that he knows for sure. Because of that traitorous rat, Shaw is back in the city and threatening Erik at the worst time.

His business he can protect with any means necessary. But Shaw came after Charles, made it personal. He won't stand for that. He'll kill Shaw, for good this time.

But first, he'll send him a message in the form of Frank Bennet.

 

Yes, he will. Ima have to start putting more warnings on future chapters. Not sure if I'll have to up the rating? What exactly warrants an MA rating? *gotta look it up*


	17. Chapter 17

Charles doesn't drive to the school.

He calls Moira and asks her to take the kids home with her after class. She sounds worried but agrees even when he won't give her a clear reason.

After he hangs up, he drives to Erik's office building and parks in front of the underground garage. There he waits, not sure what for. For hours he stares at the building, peering through the fading light into nothing. At normal business people, normal business, normal cars coming and going.

Still, he can't make himself leave, just like he cannot make himself get out of the car and go up to Erik's office.

After a few hours, he sees the familiar black SUV leave the garage and pull off the lot. He almost follows it before realizing it is only Victor and Logan in the car, Erik nowhere to be seen. He turns the motor off and waits again.

His phone lights up with missed call after missed call from Scott but he ignores all of them. Finally, a bing informs him that he has an email. He looks to find that Scott has sent him the police file from earlier in an attachment, along with a plea to talk to him.

He looks over the file again, over and over, tries to find any sign that the articles are fake, the files not authentic. He finds nothing. Just page after page of horror stories.

It is while staring at the coroner's report of a man who drowned in the ports five years ago that he realizes he needs to go talk to Erik. Staring at these facts is messing with his head, it's doing nothing to tell him the truth. Talking to Erik, looking into his eyes, that will tell him the truth. Erik will clear this up and together they will figure this out, find a way to clear his name.

Yes.

He's about the get out of his car when another unfamiliar car leaves the garage. It is dark by now and he doesn't recognize the model, just that it is plain and old and out of place in this expensive building.

He does recognize the person driving though. Erik.

What-

That's not his car. What is he doing in it without Victor and Logan? Where is he going now? Wasn't he supposed to be in meetings all night?

Erik pulls off the car lot. Charles waits ten seconds before he follows him.

The longer he follows Erik, the further his heart falls. They are going to the harbor, the ports, he can already tell. There is nothing there at night, certainly no place where Erik could attend a meeting. Just containers and empty warehouses.

Twice, Charles nearly keeps driving straight ahead when Erik makes a turn. He is not sure he wants to know where Erik is going. But he has to.

If he is meeting Shaw, if the man is pressuring him, threatening him...Charles is not sure what he is going to do about that, but at least he'll know for sure then and he'll be able to help Erik find a solution.

Erik stops the car in front of an empty warehouse by the docks. Charles, who has been following with his headlights off for the past ten minutes, parks as well and waits for Erik to get out and walk into the warehouse. There is no one else around, no other car to be seen.

He gets out and sneaks around the warehouse until he finds a side entrance, slipping inside.

It is dark and cold inside, an empty space with metal walls and concrete floors. There is a light coming from a separate room, light and muffled voices. The door to the room is slightly ajar. Erik has to be in there. He and whoever he is meeting. Shaw?

Charles creeps closer, silently, breathlessly, until he is close enough to peek through the small opening between door and frame.

His eyes widen.


	18. Chapter 18

PLEASE READ: Sooo, not sure how to say this without giving away spoilers. There's bad stuff coming up. Think Tarantino bad. If you feel like this might trigger you, don't read this chapter. Let me know in a comment and I will give a summary of this with the next chapter.

 

x

x

Charles' eyes widen as he peeks into the other room.

Erik has his back to him and he is wearing unfamiliar clothing but he recognizes him by his posture alone.

There is a man standing next to him in the half dark and- Charles' eyes widen – a man sitting motionlessly on a chair a few feet away, a bag over his head, arms seemingly tied behind his back.

Fear seizes Charles at the idea of what Erik seems to have walked into - a trap, that man got him here and now there is someone tied to a chair and – the other man turns, and the light shines on Victor's face.

Charles who was about to storm into the room freezes.

Victor-

His head stops working, shocking truth and denial warring inside it until his brain can no longer block out what is happening.

Shaw isn't here.

It's just Erik and Victor and that tied up man. No one is making Erik stay.

Cold spreads all through his body, his ribs feel like they are being pressed together, taking away his air. No. No.

He stares, frozen, as Victor walks up to the man on the chair and roughly pulls the bag off his head. Revealed is a stranger, a young man with red-rimmed eyes and sweat all over his face. His eyes dart from Victor to Erik, fear clearly written in them. His breathing is harsh and irregular, cutting through the silence of the night.

He doesn't ask any question. Not why he's there or who the two are.

Instead, he gets right to begging. "Please- it wasn't me I swear, I didn't tell him where you were. You have to believe me, I didn't rat you out."

His fearful eyes are pinned on Erik. It's him he's begging, him he's afraid of.

Erik steps forward, confident, purpose-driven, and the man flinches.

"How curious then, that my men saw you with Shaw just hours before he found me. Especially since you were so sure you hadn't seen him in years when I asked you yesterday."

Erik's voice is leveled, much too matter of factly considering the situation. So cold, so unaffected...devoid of all empathy in front of a man who looks so, so scared...

"I don't know how he found out! Let me help you find out, okay?" The man is sweating profusely, damp hair hanging messily into his face.

"Too late for that, Frankie," Victor shakes his head in what is clearly just mock-regret. Indeed, he looks like he's enjoying himself more than anything. It's a disturbing mix. His mask seems to have fallen, like Charles can see his true face for the first time, not just a shadow of it, and he looks positively evil, a devilish gleam in his eyes. "All you can do to help us now is deliver a message."

"Yes," Frankie nods eagerly, relieved, "Yes, let me do that. I'll tell him whatever you want."

"You don't have to tell him anything," Erik says calmly. "He can see for himself."

With that, Victor lets his muscled arm snap into the man's face, landing the first punch. Charles jumps, his shocked gasp drowned out by the wet sound of flesh hitting flesh. Victor lashes out again and again, ruthless, brutal, until the man under him is whimpering in pain, and all Charles can see is blood.

He wants to move, to scream at the man to stop, at Erik to stop him, but he can't seem to do either, fully immobilized by shock, by what he is seeing, Erik just standing there while-

Finally, finally, Erik holds up a hand and Victor stops, obeying him without question. He steps up to both men and the shift in angle brings his face into view, cold, utterly unaffected by the man wheezing in pain in front of him. He's a stranger, unrecognizable.

"Think that will do?" he asks casually, no one in particular it seems because he soon answers himself. "Hm...maybe not quite yet."

He rummages through his jacket pocket and pulls something out, glinting in the light and Charles' brain doesn't register what it is, even as Frankie starts whimpering, pleading. "No, no, no, no, please don't-"

But Erik doesn't listen.

"Hopefully this will teach others to keep their mouths shut," he says, just as Victor, unasked, grabs the man's jaw and nose, prying his mouth open.

The man thrashes, fights uselessly but Erik ignores him completely as he leans over him, reaching into his mouth. There is another flash of light -metal- and then the man's pleading turns to shrieking, to garbled wet cries.

Charles watches the scene unfold like a movie, like a surreal far away nightmare.

One strong, decisive turn of his wrist and Erik is pulling away, straightening up. There is something in his hand, small, fleshy and covered in blood -a tongue- and he hands it to Victor who throws it into a plastic bag and puts it into his pocket without a second look.

"Remind me to give that to Shaw," Erik says.

He pulls off his blood-stained gloves, his face impassive as he throws them on the floor in front of Frankie's feet along with the knife. Blood is pouring out of the young man's mouth, his body contorting, unintelligible sounds of pain coming from his throat.

"He's gonna bleed out," Victor says, like he's reminding Erik that they are low on gas.

"No, he won't," Erik says.

He tellingly kicks an empty plastic container next to the chair, making it slide across the wet floor surrounding the chair. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one, taking a deep unhurried drag. Frankie's blood shot eyes go wide, his mouth falls open, a sound of terror escaping and Charles realizes in that last second that it is not sweat wetting his face, not water on the ground.

Not at all.

Erik takes a step back and then drops the cigarette to the ground.

Frankie goes up in flames within seconds, chair and everything.

His agonized screams and the smell of burning flesh and kerosine are what finally snap Charles' out of his shocked trance and fling him right into a state of undiluted terror.


	19. Chapter 19

The shocked stupor that has kept Charles from reacting to what he's seeing wears off when he sees Erik light the man on fire.

It's like a slap to his face, a harsh shove back into his body.

Suddenly, nothing's numbed, and every impression comes flooding in ten times as strong, hitting him hard like a punch to the gut.

The sickening smell of kerosine and burning flesh. The agonized, blood-curdling screams in his ears. The red smears on Victor's hands and the memory of Erik's dead eyes as he tortured another human like it was nothing.

The images, freshly burned into his membranes, leave no more room for rationalizations or denial. Burned away are all thoughts of defending Erik, all thoughts of his Erik really.

That man in the other room is a stranger, someone he's never seen before. A murderer. All he thought he knew about him was a lie, the files and the crimes in them the only truth.

There is no time, no space to grieve the pillars of his life being torn in. Fear and nausea are all-consuming, his pulse too fast, too loud in his ears.

The man – his tongue cut out, because he said too much...set on fire while still alive- and now, now he's seen too much, hasn't he, he's a witness to this murder-

Charles' legs buckle, his circulation affected by his racing pulse and lack of oxygen. He barely catches himself against the door.

In the silence that has followed the dying of Frankie's screams, the rusty sound of the hinges creaking is deafening.

Two heads snap around, alarmed, and both men immediately pull out guns as they rush towards the door. "Hey!"

Charles stumbles backwards, further into the darkness that no longer disguises his presence. Adrenaline shoots through his veins, flight instinct finally kicking in, and he whirls around with an energy he didn't think he had, rushing back towards the exit.

He runs blindly, stumbles out the exit. And runs straight into a solid chest.

Charles scrambles back in fear -no- but a strong hand immediately wraps around his wrist, forcefully yanking him to a stop. Pain shoots through his arm, a red flare, but Charles doesn't stop trying to get away. He struggles wildly, heart racing, terrified, but the man holding him is too strong, grabbing his upper arm and pushing him back into the building, towards death. Another mobster- steps coming closer from behind-

"No, please-"

The fingers digging into his skin twitch, the man tenses at the sound of his voice. Charles' eyes flicker to his face and their eyes lock.

Logan.

They both freeze for a millisecond, just staring at each other, Logan's expression one of shock as he takes in Charles' terrified one.

One frozen millisecond, then something flashes across Logan's face that Charles can't process in his panic, but his grip wavers, loosens. His hands fall from Charles' arms and the teacher recoils, stumbling back a step. Logan makes no move to grab him again. What-

The door behind him crashes open, noisily slamming into the wall.

"Freeze!" someone yells, and he hears the unmistakable sound of a gun's safety being released. Terror spikes and Charles flies back into action, bolting for the door.

"Shoot!"

"No!"

Charles doesn't even manage a whole step before Logan roughly grabs him around the waist and flings both of them to the left, into the wall. He collides heavily and painfully with it, wheezing, Logan's heavy body nearly crushing him for a second.

"Don't!" Logan twists his body back towards the room, his grip on Charles remaining strong.

He's telling them not to shoot. They're going to shoot him, and he can't get away, can't move, crushed, pinned between Logan and the wall. Panic swamps all his senses and he begins hitting, kicking the man, anything to get away.

He might as well be hitting the wall.

With terrible ease, Logan grabs him more tightly around the waist and pins both of Charles' arms down with his remaining one.

Charles thrashes in the iron grip, so hard that he feels like he might break his bones, but he doesn't even feel the pain, just acute terror.

"Stop," Logan hisses into his ear but all Charles can focus on is Erik and Victor quickly coming closer, rushing towards them, guns still in hand.

He's breathing too fast, much too fast, too shallow; his body is tingling, dizziness making his legs buckle once more.

The two men stop in front of them. They are saying something but he can't make out a word over the blood rushing in his ears, can't make them out behind the black dots suddenly dancing in front of his eyes. His vision narrows, body going numb.

The last thing he sees before he blacks out is Erik's face, gray eyes wide with disbelief.


	20. Chapter 20

And on it goes... Erik's got his work cut out for him lol. Poor Charles. Oh by the way In case that wasnt painfully obvious, I totes ship everyone with Charles. Trying not to let it bleed through too much but...gah. It's Wolverine k. And Sabertooth. Those two should have their own movie. Oh wait, they did. Where the hell was Charles then?

anywhoo...

 

x

He wakes up on the couch at home with a start, heart racing from the most terrifying nightmare.

Charles lies there, unable to move, his entire body still tightly gripped by fear and misery. His heart is racing, tear tracks burn on his cheeks.

What a horrible, horrible dream-

He shifts slightly and winces when pain shoots through him, his flesh, his wrist, bruised and tender from Logan's tight grip-

Charles freezes.

The pain isn't a dream.

Not. A dream.

Fresh terror washes through him. It happened. The warehouse, the man on the chair, Erik- Erik-

He wants to curl up and cry -Erik- but he can't because he is trapped with bloody murderers, men who light other people on fire, and cut out their tongues- He's going to be sick, he needs to throw up, and yet, his body won't let him move, fear immobilizing him.

He can hear voices close by, rough, familiar. Erik. Logan. Victor.

They're in the kitchen, talking while he's unconscious. Only he's not.

Charles stares at the couch table in front of him, at one of his own books splayed open next to Erik's newspaper. He's home, not dead, and he doesn't know why, doesn't understand- They were about to shoot him, he saw-

But they couldn't kill him there, could they?

Him being found in that place would have lead back to Erik, thrown suspicion on him. So he's back here...deposited on the couch...while they are discussing what to do with him?

Charles lies motionlessly, cold with terror as gruesome scenarios flash through his mind. It's still the middle of the night outside, he can see that...no one is coming here for hours, the kids aren't there -oh, oh god- Charles shakes, torn between horror and intense relief at the thought of the kids. Thank god, they aren't here- safe with Moira. But he'll never see them again, not unless he gets out of here unseen-

The thought of the kids finally gives him the strength to push through his paralysis and sit up. He's silent, not daring to even breathe. They're distracted now, discussing loudly. If he can make it to the door-

He stands on shaky legs, forcing himself to take two deep, steadying breaths before moving. It hurts, his wrist, his ribs, his entire body feeling like a giant bruise. His shoes are gone, as is his jacket -his phone, of course they took his phone- He doesn't bother looking for any of it, the risk of making noise is too high; instead he inches towards the hallway, holding his breath when it brings him closer to the kitchen.

"So what are we going to do?" Victor's gruff voice makes him cringe, the terrible image of how he beat Frankie over and over fresh on his mind. He's known, should have trusted himself in his feeling that the man is not right...god, he's so stupid.

"What?" That's Erik's clipped response, anger and tension thick in his voice. Charles shudders at the memories it invokes.

Victor makes a frustrated sound. "He saw. Everything. What are we going to do?"

The question makes Charles freeze mid-step, the implication in it terrifying. He doesn't want to know the answer and he needs to get out of here before they make up their minds. But if he knows what's coming it might help-

"You will do nothing, Victor," Erik's voice cuts like a knife, dark and threatening, "I will handle this."

Charles' stomach drops at those words. He never would have believed he could feel this afraid of Erik...but then, he didn't know what the man is capable of. Didn't want to know. So, so stupid...Standing there while the man was choking the life out of Cohen and still not seeing-

He shakes his head harshly, has to force himself to breathe out, quiet, slow, pressed. Out, he just needs to get out of here. He keeps moving, step by tiny step. If only he can get past the kitchen door, he will be half way into the hallway...

"Yeah, cause that went so well the first time," Victor's voice is seething, frustrated and condescending at the same time.

"Victor," Logan warns but his brother ignores him. "This is all of our heads, Jimmy, I'll have my say. You want this clean? Fine. He's out cold, he never has to wake up again. Here, I'll even do it for ya."

He's barging out of the kitchen and into the living room before Charles can even think to move, to hide. Charles stumbles back in shock, heart missing a beat.

"Victor!" Erik and Logan are at Victor's heels, and Charles gets a fleeting glimpse of the dark look of fury on Erik's face before his attention is drawn back to Victor stalking closer.

The man is looking at him coldly, a sharp-toothed smile making the hairs on the back of Charles' neck stand up. "Well, I guess that's that for short and painless," he muses, eyes flashing in what looks sickeningly like excitement.

Charles bolts, dashing around Victor towards the hallway.

Or, he tries to at least.

Victor's arm shoots out, lightening fast, hard fingers grabbing a fistful of Charles' hair and yanking him to an abrupt stop. Pain shoots through his scalp, and he cries out, but before he has time to struggle, Victor has flung him forward with frightening force, back onto the couch.

He lands with a pained, shocked gasp, head colliding with the hard armrest of the furniture. He sees stars, breathless for one second before fear has him whirling around and scrambling to the end of the couch, trying to get away.

He expects Victor to come after him but before the man can make another move, two things happen at once. With an enraged growl, Erik lunges at Victor, only to be beat to the punch by Logan who jumps in and pushes Victor into the hallway before Erik can get to him.

The deflection leaves the men at a stalemate for a moment, all of them breathing heavily as Erik stares at Victor and Logan while they stare back. For a second, both Victor and Erik look like they will attack the other, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Charles stares, frozen, not breathing, until finally Logan moves, raising a warning hand in Erik's direction while blindly pushing Victor further into the hallway.

"Your business," he says, raising his other hand as well. "We'll be outside, checking on the neighbors."

At first, it looks like Erik will pounce anyway, like he'll go through Logan to get to Victor. Then however, Logan's eyes flicker to Charles, not meeting his gaze, back on Erik immediately. Erik tenses, then, slowly, he breathes out and nods silently.

Logan turns and leaves without another word.

Charles is left with a silently seething Erik, not sure if he is less or more terrified now that the brothers have left them alone.

x

x

Anyone ever have that kinda nightmare where you wake up paralyzed because you were in the deep sleep phase? And you try to scream but you can't, all you can do is lie there and cry? Not fun. Ima say Charles feels worse than that though. Poor dear.


	21. Chapter 21

Edited from this chapter to the last on 5/18/15:

xxx

The apartment door falls shut and Charles is left with Erik, not sure if he is less or more terrified now that the brothers have left them alone.

He is still sprawled on the couch, head pounding from Victor manhandling him. He thinks his brow might be cut open, knows his hands are shaking, his whole body shell-shocked from the sudden, violent attack. Nothing like a first hit to make the body comprehend the reality of an impending violent end. He would have killed him, right here and now if Logan hadn't-

He flinches when Erik turns towards him, all aggressive energy and stormy eyes still. He looks like he doesn't need a knife to tear a body into pieces. Their eyes meet, for the first time since the incident really; Charles stares, petrified, into gray orbs.

It's so familiar, Erik standing in this, their shared space. He looks the same and yet he doesn't, never will again. A wave of grief washes over him, unexpectedly, pooling tears making his eye sting where his collision with the couch broke skin.

Erik sees it and his face crunches up, anger flashing over his features once more.

"That fucking-" He takes a step forward and Charles scrambles off the couch, rushing to get it in between them.

Heart racing in his chest as his eyes flicker across the room, he feverishly looks for a way out.

There is none. The door is behind Erik, and short of jumping off the balcony he has nowhere to go.

"Charles," there is a deep frown etched into Erik's face. He's stopped mid-step, pausing by the couch, long fingers heavily resting on its surface. Erik is staring at him, brows pulled together, mouth tight.

Charles stares back breathlessly, watches as the anger slowly bleeds out of Erik's face to be replaced by some conflicting expression, something Charles cannot read because most of his attention is still on the man's movements.

Erik's fingers briefly clench in the couch's fabric.

"I'm going to come over there now...we're going to sit down for a bit. Talk. Alright?" His voice sounds deceptively soft suddenly, soothing...like he is attempting to calm a frightened animal. His tone makes Charles think of lambs before the slaughter. Is Erik going to cut his throat, too?

"No-" he shakes, his racing heart leaving him dizzy. It's only panic keeping him conscious. "Don't-"

Begging so soon. He can't even pretend to be above it. All he can think of is that man Frankie, first begging then burning, and his sister and little Jean and their faces when they'll find him dead-

"I'm not doing anything, Charles." Erik is edging closer again, "We're just gonna talk about what happened."

Charles can't breathe, the image of Erik cutting out the tongue of the last man he talked to like a red veil over his eyes. "I didn't, I don't know an- I, please, E-" He tries to say Erik's name but chokes on it, shuddering.

The lie is pathetic. He couldn't be more obvious of the fact that he knows everything.

Erik makes a face like he has a bad taste in his mouth, looking almost...regretful?

"I so wish that were true, darling." He takes a step forward, and Charles stumbles backwards, blindly, grabbing the lamp from the couch table. His wrist burns like fire when his fingers clench around it.

Erik stops, surprise quickly turning to displeasure in his eyes.

"Really?" he sighs, "What are you gonna do with that, Charles?"


	22. Chapter 22

"What are you gonna do with that, Charles?"

Erik cocks his head to the side, displeased but clearly not at all feeling threatened by Charles' poor attempt at self-defense. "Come on now, don't be ridiculous. I know you're upset but this isn't helping... I can see your arm is hurting. Hand that over and let's have a conversation like two grown up people."

His voice still has that terrible softness to it, burning Charles with its familiarity.

Charles tries, but is incapable of holding back the desperate tears that well up in his eyes at the tone, the heartbreak he cannot help but feel under all his terror. How often has Erik spoken to him in that tone, how often-

He's loved Erik so much, so, so much- and here he is in his own home, a place he thought of as a sanctuary, about to find his end at the hands of someone he trusted, someone who is talking to him in that same voice that used to make him feel so safe-

"You lied to me," he gasps, throat closing up, stomach roiling, "All along you- everything- and now, now-"

He doesn't know where he finds the space for grief and anger inside him; his head knows there is no place for it here, that the person he feels betrayed by doesn't even bloody exist - but this whole interaction is still ripping his heart to shreds.

Why isn't the man just getting it over with? Why is he still talking at all when he could long be busy planning how to cover up Charles' disappearance, how to explain it to people? Why didn't he just let Victor-? Is he enjoying this?

"I thought it was best," Erik says, looking minimally contrite, but mostly self-assured, "Safest. For you and the kids."

The kids. The thought of Jean hits Charles like a freight train, burying any indignation he might have otherwise felt at Erik's non-excuse.

"Jean-" he croaks, his fear for her now instead of himself.

If he dies, who will take care of her? Or worse, what if Erik decides to keep her? And if she comes back here and finds him dead...she'll be forever traumatized. Forcing back sobs at the thought -oh god, he's failed her- he stands praying that there is any mercy in Erik, if only a tiny morsel.

"Don't worry about Jean," Erik says calmly, "She's perfectly safe."

The words are of little comfort, especially because they are extremely vague...what does Erik mean, safe? Is he going to give her back into foster care and never let her know what happened to Charles? Or is he going to keep her here, for appearance's sake, and subject her to growing up in constant danger, raised by a murderer? Charles shudders violently at the thought, even more scared by that than he is at the prospect of what might happen to him. He can't let that happen, he can't.

"Please, Erik-" he chokes out, voice breaking, "You can't do this, please- just let me go. I'll go and take her and you'll never hear from us again. I swear. Just don't do this to her." Don't do this to me.

He doesn't know if there is any point in appealing to Erik's empathy, considering the man likely faked that part, too, but how can he not try, for Jean?

Erik's face crunches up at his words, anger bleeding through the carefully calm expression he is wearing. "I know you're not thinking clearly, Charles, otherwise you wouldn't be asking me that."

He couldn't be clearer.

Charles feels himself, sway, reality hitting him hard. Of course Erik is going to let him walk out of here. He clutches the lamp in his hand more tightly. He will lose against Erik in a second if he tries to fight his way out...not to mention the men waiting outside...but how can he not try? For Jean?

He tries to ready himself to pounce, to strike Erik, scanning his body for any non-existent weak spots. His gaze gets stuck on Erik's face. The mouth that kissed him goodbye so tenderly just this morning.

"Was any of it real?" he finds himself asking without being able to stop. Erik blinks, looking confused. Charles stares at him, tears burning hotly in his eyes. "Do you feel anything at all or am I just going to be another body you dispose of and forget about come morning?"

Erik's confused expression turns to one of shock at his words. He abruptly stills, his eyes widening in a flash of steely gray.

"Charles..." his eyebrows crease until they are one line; he sounds perturbed, "What are you- are you serious?! You think I'm, what? Going to kill you? You? Standing here in our living room where our kids play? After everything I've- Charles, you can't honestly-"

His face contorts and Charles flinches before he realizes that Erik's anger is laced with what looks like hurt.

Charles doesn't allow himself to even consider that it is real.

No, never again. His eyes are open now and they will be until Erik closes them.

"Stop it. How does any of that matter?! I saw you torture and burn someone alive – whoever I thought you were- whatever I thought I was to you- I'm nothing but a witness to get rid of now, aren't I?!"

He no longer cares about the tears that keep coming, about the consequences of saying the wrong thing. The words he's saying just serve to remind him that its all over anyway.

Erik's face darkens, shutting off, eyes hardening. "I'm not even going to answer that," he says, somehow sounding hurt of all things. "I never wanted you to have to see anything like what you saw tonight, but it's happened and I need you to calm down and think clearly so we can talk about this." He looks at Charles expectantly, but carries on anyway when the younger man just stares at him. "Tonight was a job, Charles. Nothing more. What I did there has nothing to do with my private life, with you."

Charles is shaking his head, numbly. He still can't believe how wrong he was, how he didn't see that his fiancé is a bloody psychopath. He doesn't even know why Erik is still talking, if he actually think Charles will feel better knowing he might not kill him by burning him like he did Frankie, or if he is just trying to calm him to spare himself the fight.

"People will ask questions," Charles breathes, desperately, stupidly.

Erik takes a step closer, and Charles takes two back. "No. They won't."

He takes another step forward and that is it, that and those callous words. Instead of retreating further, he throws himself forward, lunging for Erik's head with the lamp.


	23. Chapter 23

Erik moves lightening quick, faster than Charles has never seen anyone move before.

He evades Charles' attack and lunges at the same time. Charles recoils, arms flying up again but Erik has already grabbed him by his biceps. He flings the lamp coming at him aside like an annoying fly, his block making Charles' injured wrist collide with his forearm so hard that the younger man's knees buckle from the pain.

He staggers, and Erik grips him harder, pulling him forward. Charles blindly shoves him with his good hand, but even the tiny movement sends more searing pain through his body now, blacking out his vision completely.

Panicked, uncoordinated, he wrenches away from Erik, and the momentum has him stumbling over their legs and the broken lamp. With a gasp he falls backwards, instinctively grabbing Erik's shirt to catch himself, but Erik is falling with him. Before they can hit the floor though, Erik's long fingers wrap around the back of Charles' neck, the other grabbing a fistful of his pullover and wrenching him around mid-fall.

Erik lands on his back, Charles colliding with his chest instead of the floor, the impact cushioned and yet knocking the air out of his lungs. He doesn't know how long it is until his body lets him break past the overwhelming, paralyzing agony that has flooded him, floored him in the truest sense.

The second he gets an inch of his bearings back and feels Erik's heavy hands on him he flails, trying to get out of the man's grip. Erik, in one fluent movement rolls them around, the length of his heavy body pinning Charles to the floor. It's the same move he's made times before, the same strength with which he pins Charles' arms down, one by the wrist and the other by his elbow, and yet this time it's nothing but terrifying.

Charles struggles feebly, pointlessly, even though he knows he's lost. "Charles, stop this nonsense, you're only hurting yourself," Erik says from above, not even breaking a sweat as he holds him in place. Charles doesn't listen; he fights until every inch of strength has left him and he is left trembling and breathing raggedly, defeated.

"Are you done?" Erik finally asks, breath much too close to Charles' ear. He shudders.

Erik loosens his grip on his wrist and Charles' muscles seize as he tries to pull away immediately. With a growl, Erik pushes him back down.

"Stop it already," he snaps sharply, strong fingers squeezing his remaining good wrist in warning, and Charles freezes under him, breath catching.

Then he lies, trapped, helpless, dragging in shallow, shaky breaths, his heart beating so fast it feels like he's having a heart attack.

Erik gazes down at him, slightly shaking his head, looking troubled again, like this is all very upsetting. He closes his eyes for a moment, sighing heavily, before looking down at his fiance's tear streaked, ashen face again.

"Mein Gott, Charles," he murmurs, "Now look at yourself. You're a mess."

Like it's his fault, like he did this to himself.

Charles wants to scream, at Erik, for help, but he doesn't have the air, doesn't have the strength to even move his healthy arm when Erik lets go of it again. The mob boss is still lying on him, and while it's doubtlessly not his full weight pressing Charles into the carpet, it is enough to leave him with no illusion of mobility. All he can do is flinch when Erik reaches up to trace the side of his face, deceptively gentle.

His finger tips come away bloody, and fresh anger flashes across his features for a second. Charles stops breathing and Erik, frowning, quickly shakes the look off, features smoothing over. "No. Stop that. Hush now."

His calloused fingers stroke Charles' cheek, wrapping around the side of his neck. Charles feels his pulse fluttering under his strong fingers, waits for them to tighten, to squeeze...Erik's thumb rubs in small circles over his pulse point.

His other hand falls from Charles' elbow and lands against his side, warm, rough skin stroking his trembling ribs. Charles is frozen under the man's hands, not daring to move a muscle while Erik keeps up his gentle petting, and the soothing, shushing noises.

"Shh, I know you're scared. It's alright. No point in fighting. Just be still. Be still. I've got you."


	24. Chapter 24

"Come on, up you get."

Erik pushes to his feet, pulling Charles up with him.

Charles tenses in the grip, his brain screaming at him that this is life or death, that he cannot give in like this, but he has no energy to fight anymore. His whole body is shaking, pain radiating through his arm even though Erik is painstakingly careful not to touch it when he pulls Charles' good arm over his shoulder.

"N-no-" he mutters. He has no idea what Erik is doing, why he didn't just wrap his hands around his neck and finished it while he had him down...all he knows is that his impasse does nothing to stifle the fear he feels; it's making it worse rather.

"Yes," Erik says decidedly, turning them around towards the staircase. "No more of this. Come."

He moves them forward, and Charles has no time to think about protesting more because his body rebels the moment he takes the first step. His legs give out, and his head spins, vision blurring. Erik catches him wordlessly, picking him up bridal style. He carries Charles over to the stairs and starts towards the upper floor.

"W-what are u doing?" His arm is uselessly cradled against his chest, he can barely hold up his head, keep it from falling against Erik's broad shoulder. Erik is steady in his gait but even the tiny movements jostling Charles make him see stars. He feels like he'll either black out or throw up any second; cold sweat is beading on his forehead and yet his mind won't stop screaming. This is wrong, something's wrong- what is Erik doing bringing him upstairs?

"Breathe, Charles," is all Erik says, ever calm, "Try to calm down. Alles ist gut."

Nothing has ever sounded more ridiculous.

Charles wants to laugh, or sob, but he can't do either because if he stops breathing for even a second now, he is sure to black out, and he can't- not when-

Steadily, Erik crosses the hallway, past the kids' rooms, until he reaches their bed room. He doesn't bother turning on the ceiling light, merely walking over to the bed and setting Charles down carefully, propping him up against the array of pillows they picked out together in a different life.

Charles hisses, curling around his injured arm instinctively. God, if it would just stop hurting so much, then he could think, could try to figure out what to do, what's going on- Erik isn't making sense, nothing is, but his head is so, so foggy...

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Erik walk over to the bathroom and flick on the light in there, tinting the bedroom in a dim yellow. He doesn't seem worried Charles will try to run away again -not that he could- and it takes him about a minute to walk back out, a small box in his hands. He lays it on the bed next to Charles' legs and sits down.

Charles tenses, breath catching, until his eyes make out the dark, blurry red cross on the box's side.

What-

Wordlessly, Erik flips it open, rummaging through the box's contents like what he is doing is completely normal.

Charles stares at him, beyond comprehension, pulse fast and irregular, trying to make sense of what is happening.

'Everything's alright.' Erik's words swim through his mind, traitorously hooking their claws into him, but the tiny hope that Erik is not going to hurt him after all is overshadowed by the thought of the sorts of sharp objects that are hidden in that box.

The knife cutting out Frankie's tongue flashes before his eyes.

He shudders, the urge to get away from Erik bubbling back up. He tries to will his body to obey but it's like his muscles have shut down, not letting him move for fear that it will just bring another wave of agony from his wrist.

When Erik pulls something out of the box and moves closer, Charles freezes, breath catching.

Erik looks up at him in discontent, his brows furrowed over his shadowed eyes. He catches Charles' chin between his fingers, unyielding when the younger man tries to pull away. "For heaven's sake, Charles, stop moving, I'm just trying to look at your head."

With strong, firm fingers he turns Charles' face to the side, eyes fixated on his forehead. His jaw tightens as he takes in the wound.

"Verdammt, Creed." he murmurs, but Charles is too distracted by what's in his other hand to try to understand.

His breath hitches with a scared noise and Erik stops with a frown. Eyebrow raised, he holds up his hand, showing Charles the small white tissue he is holding. It's one of those disinfectant wipes they use whenever Jean or Pietro scrape their knees playing outside.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Charles." That same expression of hurt settles over Erik's features again, though it's mostly hidden by cool determination. "I don't know how often I have to say that...I can't believe I have to say that at all."

Charles just stares up at him feverishly, biting back words.

With a sigh, Erik begins dabbing at the blood on Charles' skin unasked, touch light and swift. Charles hisses when the disinfectant comes into contact with broken skin, but Erik just tsks, firmly holding him in place. There's nothing to do then but lie there and stare at Erik, at his focused face as he inspects the cleaned wound on his head.

He looks so...Erik.

So achingly familiar that for a second Charles almost wants to lean into his touch, desperate for comfort.

Peripherally, his eyes catch sight of his own blood on the tissue in Erik's hand and the next second, he feels sick to his core again. He shudders.

Erik's presence makes him want to recoil, and cry, and scream all at the same time, and the overload is making his head spin. He is terrified, and rightfully so, but Erik's conflicting behavior is too much for his reeling brain to comprehend, as much as he tries to figure out the man's reasons. All he knows to be real is that Erik is a liar and that his heart is falling to pieces.

He doesn't even know how he can be so still. It must be shock or exhaustion or both. Either way it won't last.

He is in the eye of the storm, a tiny step, in any direction, might rip him apart. Staying still might do the same.

"It's just a small cut," Erik informs him like it matters, like Charles cares. "Doesn't need stitches. Show me your wrist."

He makes a sound of disapproval when Charles tries to flinch away, carefully but firmly gripping his elbow. The promise of pain is enough to make Charles go very still.

He stares, breath held, while Erik's long fingers prod at his arm, lightly pressing into certain points, searching. The lightest touch to his wrist has Charles whimpering in pain, nearly doubling over. Erik pulls his hand away and pushes Charles back into the pillows with the other one. "Well, if it wasn't broken before, it certainly looks like it is now. Try to keep it still. I'll call a doctor first thing in the morning. Let's get you some-"

"What are you talking about?" Charles blinks rapidly.

"There won't be anyone awake now-" "No," Charles interrupts, leaning forward, eyes bright as he stares at Erik, uncomprehending. "No. This. What are you doing?"

Erik frowns like the answer is obvious, superfluous, and not a mystery, like his behavior isn't disturbing or surreal at all. "I'm taking care of y-" "Why, if you're just going to kill me anyway?"


	25. Chapter 25

"Why, if you're just going to kill me anyway?"

Charles can't fathom what Erik is thinking, what he is trying to achieve here. He has to shut him up, that's all there is left if he won't take the risk of letting him go. He has lost, has no more fight in him, so Erik will do what he has to...but until then, Charles doesn't want this continued act, these lies that are sickening, and insulting...it's not a comfort, it makes it worse.

At his words, Erik's head snaps up, eyes flashing with dismay, frustration and anger. "Charles. Stop. Saying that. I would never want to hurt you." When Charles just keeps staring at him full of fear and disbelief, Erik's jaw clenches. "You know that. You know me."

"I thought I did," Charles whispers, toneless, filterless, eyes burning.

Erik's jaw is working, moving restlessly in sync with his hands. "You're in shock." He nods, cursing under his breath, "Verdammt." He takes a deep breath. Then, louder, he says, "It's...a lot. What you saw. I understand. It's shock...your brain is mixing things up, projecting-"

He sounds like he is trying to convince himself.

Charles stares at him, disbelieving. He almost wants to laugh, at the sheer insanity of what Erik is saying, the idea that he could be serious. Projecting?

"Right," he rasps, scathing, anger bubbling up again, "Projecting. Because why would I be scared of you, when all I saw you do was torture someone to death. Guess that's just a regular 'night at the office' though, isn't it, Mr. Mob boss?! But I'm overreacting. Tell me then, what is your solution here? I'd hate to judge you based on one flimsy murder."

He is practically digging his own grave with this, he knows, but it is just such a relief to focus on his anger instead of his fear, to have one person in the room be honest at least.

Erik's face scrunches up, startled by the crass words no doubt, and unbelievably he still looks like the reason for Charles' reaction is only now occurring to him, like it's any sort of surprise.

He presses his lips into a thin line, face shadowing over; he leans in, looking at Charles intently, imploringly. "You think you understand everything now, but you don't, Charles, and you're in no condition to hear me out. So let me say just one thing, again, and very clearly. That man you saw was scum...he deserved what was coming to him. I did what I had to. Nothing more. It was business. I'm not a different person for it. I wish you hadn't seen that side of me, that you didn't have to go through this now, but it's happened, and we'll work through this, and everything's going to be fine. I need you to trust me on that, even if your mind is telling you differently right now."

"Trust you?" Charles gapes in disbelief, horrified to think that to Erik this explanation actually makes sense. That he thinks it could make Charles feel better. And what is there to not grasp? He understands perfectly. Nothing is ever going to be fine again. The man he trusted doesn't exist; he's a phantasm, a facade.

His Erik would never have discarded another human life this carelessly without even batting an eye, he would have never treated him like this-

"Yes. Trust me." Erik nods encouragingly, either tone-deaf or simply unwilling to hear the hysteria in Charles' words. "I'm going to fix this, you just have to let me."

He lifts a hand to Charles' cheek, frowning when the younger man flinches under his touch.

Erik doesn't pull back though, insistent, thumb tracing the tear marks on his face. "Nothing's changed," he says softly, imploringly, "You're looking at me like I'm some stranger, but I'm the same. You found out part of the truth tonight, yes, but what's much more important you already know. I love you-"

Charles shoves Erik away with all the force he can manage.

It does preciously little. Erik moves back, mostly because he is caught off guard, but he doesn't go far. He looks down, shocked and hurt, at Charles who is breathing raggedly, shaking with pain and anger and disgust.

'I love you.' Those words, and Erik's eyes...so warm, so full of promise and comfort and affection and truth – Charles wants to sob, and scream, to hurt Erik the way he is hurting, to tell him to go to hell, to stop lying-

Except, he's starting to get the dreadful feeling that Erik isn't lying at all. That he actually believes what he is saying.

Which is so much worse.

His anger seeps out of him, replaced by a gut-twisting sense of misery that threatens to choke him. This is so much worse than as if Erik had told him their whole life together had been a lie and then killed him. It's like he's getting back the air he needs to breathe – only to realize it's poisoned.

Erik's insane.

He thinks he can fix this- keep him-

Charles shudders, somehow more terrified now than he thought was physically possible. No. No, that can't- He can't!

Frantic, desperate, he pulls together whatever is left of his reason in one last attempt to make Erik see sense, "If you loved me, you wouldn't be doing this. You'd let me go. I want to go. Please, just stop! There's no fixing this, there just isn't-"

"No!" Charles' rapidly devolving argument is abruptly cut off when both of Erik's hands grab his face, jerking his chin upward. The man's eyes are wild, flashing with frightful emotion.

For a split second, he looks truly unhinged and Charles freezes, fear flooding back into him, but this time, instead of softening, Erik's face sets, his eyes narrow and his jaw tight. "No, you don't. You love me, you're not thinking-"

He breaks off, staring at a frozen, recalcitrant Charles, and his face crumbles, anger bleeding into seeming desperation. He closes his eyes and sags forward, resting his forehead against Charles'. "This will pass. I promise. It will all be how it was, how it's supposed to be. You belong by my side, Charles. We both know that. No matter what, that will always be true."

He looks so much like he actually believes that that it breaks what is left of Charles' heart. One day ago, he wanted nothing more. Now, the prospect of staying with Erik sounds like a living nightmare. He is immediately terrified of answering, of the consequences it might bring, but still, through tears and terror, he manages to shake his head, say what he has to. "No. No, it's not. I want to go."

There is no wavering, no doubt in his voice, his eyes. There is no way Erik can not see that, not as intently as he is looking. Erik just stares at him for the fraction of an eternity, at first in denial but then looking distraught as realization sinks in, and Charles thinks he physically feels both of them breaking alike in that moment.

Finally, when Erik's hand falls from his face, his expression is stony, shut off like he has drawn up sudden walls. Charles stares at him with dread coiling in his gut, expecting the worst.

Still, he is not prepared.

"That's the pain talking," Erik says unmoved, confident, and completely letting denial take over. "You need rest. We'll talk about this in the morning."

"No-" Charles protests, horrified, but Erik isn't looking at him anymore, pouring water into a glass on the nightstand and rummaging through its drawer.

He turns back around with two small white pills in his palm, the sight of which immediately makes alarm bells shrill in Charles' head.

"Here, take these for the pain."

"N-" Charles protests, but Erik doesn't even let him finish the sentence, gripping Charles' chin again. Charles recoils with a start, hands flying up instinctively to push the man away. He doesn't remember his wrist until its use has him doubling over in pain, nearly blacking out.

Before he can get his bearings back, Erik has pushed the pills past his lips, and Charles can do nothing but swallow the water poured into his mouth unless he wants to drown.

He scrambles away when Erik finally let's go, breath faltering in sudden panic. No, no- he has to get up, has to-

Erik catches both his arms, pulling him back against his chest with gentle, yet uncompromising force. Charles twists, shaking, but Erik is holding down his good arm, his other hand coming to rest on Charles' hair, stroking it soothingly as he pulls Charles' head into the crook of his neck.

"It's okay, calm down. You're safe with me. Everything's fine."

His voice is soft and genuine in Charles' ear, and it's like a dam breaking.

Charles sobs, tremors wrecking his body as desperation and helpless terror take over. Erik's voice is luring but he can already feel his head swimming, darkness beginning to pull him under.

"W-hat-?" he gasps, tongue heavy.

Erik eases him down onto the bed, holding him securely, still stroking his hair. "Just strong pain killers. And a sedative."

Charles cries, frantically drawing in air, already feeling his cheek numb where Erik is wiping away hot tears.

'No, no, no, no-'

The pain is slowly ebbing away, but the terror stays, filling every fiber of his being.

"Just get some rest, darling," Erik murmurs into his ear, familiar stubble faintly scratching Charles' cheek.

The last thing he feels are Erik's soft lips on his, then darkness takes him.


	26. Chapter 26

Charles wakes up in his own bed, blanket warm around him, sunlight in his face and birds chirping outside, and for one second he can't fathom why he feels sick with apprehension.

Then, it all comes rushing back and he sits up with a start, heart racing as his eyes dart around the room.

Erik isn't there. He is alone.

He has to force himself to take deep, slow breaths instead of giving in to the feeling of suffocation that hits him.

Breathe in.

The door's closed. It's quiet outside. No immediate threat.

Breathe out.

His head is still slightly fuzzy, the pain killers not having quite worn off yet it seems.

The pills...Erik holding him down...the feeling of-

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in.

He can't panic. He has to think. Think.

His wrist is in what looks like a makeshift cast, some tape and a ruler, and it's aching dully.

He tried to push Erik away, but couldn't- he told him no but Erik didn't even listen-

The next breath he drags in is more of a sob.

Just hours ago, Charles wouldn't have thought he could be any more afraid than he was when he thought his fiance was going to kill him. Now he knows better. New dimensions of horror are opening up before his eyes.

He struggles out of the sheets, suddenly hectic.

He has to get out of here.

His brain is supplying that he isn't wearing his clothes anymore, but a clean shirt instead- Erik- He has to push the thought of it down with force, because the mere notion of having been unconscious next to Erik leaves him shuddering, stomach cramping up, and he has to keep his wits, has to focus. He blindly pulls a pair of pants out the closet, somehow getting them on despite the cast.

Then he hurries over to the door, heart in his throat as he listens for sounds in the hallway. Nothing but quiet. He pushes the door open, breath held, and silently slips outside when there is no one to be seen.

The whole apartment seems deserted, quiet, and Charles rushes to the door, nearly opening it before fear stills his hand.

Even if Erik has gone somewhere...he would probably have left Logan, or worse Victor, behind. Charles' hand falls, trembling. No, he can't risk walking out there.

He spins around, hurriedly beginning to look for his phone, any phone, in any place he can think of. He needs to call Moira. She doesn't know where they live, probably will just stay at her place until Charles comes by...but what if she doesn't? What if the kids tell her the address? No. No, he can't let them come back here. He has to go get them and then go...where? His apartment is gone, the school is out...Raven? No, he can't drag her into this either.

Scott. Yes.

Finding no phone, he rushes into the study, running back out with his laptop. This will do. He can email Scott and-

As soon as he opens up the laptop, he hears the front door. Charles jumps, panicking and shoving his laptop under the couch seconds before Erik walks into the room. Charles struggles to his feet, heart racing as his eyes find Erik -and the man walking in behind him.


	27. Chapter 27

Charles stares at the men in the door way with a sick feeling, heart beating in his throat.

It was obvious of course, that staying in the apartment held the threat of seeing him again, but the reality of it is still a nightmare.

Erik is dressed in one of his usual dark suits over a turtle neck, looking like he's just coming in from work. His expression is placid, level, and yet he looks nothing but intimidating now that Charles has seen behind his civil facade, the very stride in his step a veiled threat.

Erik's hands, setting down the brief case, make him flash back to those same hands pressing his wrists into the carpet, into the bed...his lips, moving in a light greeting, has the hairs on the back of Charles' neck standing up to the memory of that mouth pressed to his, unasked, whispering terrible words in the dark.

The urge to run is suddenly so strong again that he can barely stay still. He should have gotten out while he could, risks be damned, should have climbed off the bloody balcony-

Erik's timbre interrupts his frantic thoughts, "Oh good, you're awake. This is Hank McCoy, I invited him over."

Distracted, Charles' eyes flicker to the man behind him, tense, expecting a lackey similar to Victor, but the stranger looks too young, too scrawny, too nervous, to seem like he could have anything to do with Erik's business at all. He is looking around shyly from behind his horn-rimmed glasses, clutching the oversized messenger bag hanging off his shoulder.

Charles doesn't have long to let confusion distract him, because Erik moves into the room and Charles' body goes on the defensive instinctively. He tenses, eyes snapping around to track the man's movements. A tiny flicker in Erik's eye seems to betray his displeasure at Charles' reaction, but it is quickly buried under a calm facade, and Erik acts 'normal' again.

"How's your wrist?" The question makes it sound like Charles sprained the limb playing tennis, not being thrown around by one of his fiance's lackeys.

It hits Charles like a punch to the gut, that same mixture of fear and anger he felt yesterday spreading in his chest. Is Erik actually doing this...trying to pretend like nothing happened? Like this is somehow fixable?

"Broken." He says the loaded word pointedly. 'Irreparably broken.'

"Of course." Erik doesn't even blink. "Hank is a doctor. He's going to take a look at you.

The young man, McCoy, nods hastily, pushing his glasses up his nose as he steps forward, extending a hand. "Mr. Xavier, if you would sit-"

He breaks of, startled, when Charles steps back abruptly, evading him.

'Don't touch me', every single fiber in Charles' body shrieks, shrill and unbidden. The young doctor looks harmless and well-meaning, blatantly so, but there have been so many unwanted hands on Charles in the past 12 hours, men moving him at their will without giving him a say...he can't feel any more powerless than he already does. He can't.

Plus, he is not moving one step closer to Erik. No.

"Uh-" Hank blinks in confusion, waiting, but Charles doesn't move an inch, silent.

Finally, it's Erik who sighs, a frown creeping onto his face. "Hank, if you'll wait in the kitchen for a moment."

Hank scurries off without having to be asked twice, leaving Charles alone with Erik yet again.


	28. Chapter 28

Once again left with Erik, Charles stands, tense, apprehensive of what will happen next.

Erik is looking at him in exasperation, an expression which should be so innocent and which is so common for Erik, but which is suddenly terrifying because it is the same one he wore just before he decided to force him to swallow drugs last night.

Charles feels his heart beating fast as he stands frozen, half expecting the man to walk over and grab him without a word, simply forcing him to move as he wants him to.

Erik, however, just sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with an unhappy look.

As though Charles is being unreasonably difficult.

"Charles, your hand might be broken. You need to let the doctor look at it."

Not the conversation they need to be having. Not a word about what he did-

Charles just stares at Erik in disbelief for a long moment, anger and misery churning in his gut, until he forces himself to focus. He saw this coming...he needs to work against it-

"I want to go see my doctor," he says, just short of forceful, emphasis on the word go.

'Let me go,' he wants to say again, but doesn't dare to, considering how Erik reacted to those words yesterday.

He keeps up his best stoic face, tries to hide his dread as best he can. Erik can't really go through with this. Not when it's broad daylight and Charles still hasn't changed his mind one bit. He has to see reason...

"No." His gut twists when Erik shakes his head, without even a second's thought. "That will just raise unnecessary questions."

Charles grows cold.

Questions...he can't quite tell if Erik means he doesn't want him talking to the police about the murder...or if he simply doesn't want it on a medical record that Charles was hurt so that there will be no suspicion if he ends up killing Charles after all. Because, he still could...he could Change his mind...if he's crazy, there's no telling what he'll do-

It's stupid, pointless, he knows that before he opens his mouth again, but fear and despair still have the words spilling from his lips, making him lose his barely assembled calm.

"You can't do this!" he snaps, "You can't make me stay here and pretend like-"

"I'm doing what's best for you," Erik interrupts, cutting him off, "This is your home. You'll be safe here until you've recovered."

'Recovered'. Like he is the one mentally unstable.

And Erik actually looks like he believes what he is saying. The sight only makes Charles more scared.

Staring at Erik, his familiar, ill-expressed concern, Charles suddenly feels stupid for even having assumed that the man could be talked to, for still seeing him partly as his Erik, as someone who cares about what Charles wanted, who listenes. But Erik never was that man, was he? Not even before...Charles was just too blind to see it.

"There's no recovering from this," he says, to himself, voice breaking over the words.

He can never unsee, never let himself be fooled again. He sees Erik for what he really is now and it terrifies him.

Erik's face twitches, emotion rippling over his carefully assembled facade. For a moment, he looks like he will let it break through as he walks closer, stopping by the couch before Charles can think to back up.

When he speaks though, his tone is almost too calm again, too confident, "Yes, there is." His eyes fixate on Charles', intent, imploring. "You just need to get over the initial shock of what happened. It's going to take time, but we cannot fix this if you try to run away from it."

Maybe it's his enfuriating calm that does it, or maybe it's just the last straw. "STOP SAYING- I don't want this fixed!" Charles shouts, losing it. "I won't change my mind! I won't stay-"

"Yes, you will." Erik interrupts, suddenly just as sharp, eyes blazing for real this time. "You don't know what's best for you right now, so I am deciding for you, until you've come to your senses. I'm going to keep you safe-"

"From what?!" Charles yells back, careless, "YOU?!"

He jumps, stumbling back when Erik suddenly moves, the rest of his calm crumbling as he stalks towards him. "Me?" he laughs, a harsh sound, "If I- if this is the worst you can think of, you are even more confused than I thought! You say you understand, Charles, but you have no idea! You looked at some reports, read some news paper articles, and you think you know what you're up against?! What you saw yesterday, what I did, it's nothing compared to what will happen if you run, do you hear me?! You're mine. Do you understand what that means? No, of course you don't. Well, listen then! Everybody knows. They will know you're out there and they will come for you, and if you think you're scared now, this will seem like a joke compared to what they will do to you! Do you understand?!"

The silence that falls is deafening. Charles can't even think to form a reply. He stares at Erik's burning eyes and crunched up face, frozen, in shock, in genuine terror.

He didn't think he could be more scared of Erik after what he saw yesterday, but this-

The man's words -no, threats- are chilling him to the bone, making him fully realize just how much danger he is in. To see how easily Erik just snapped, going from faux-reasonable to aggressively threatening him- if he keeps pushing it will end badly...but what else is there to do? Give in and then run in secret?

Erik has just cruelly reminded him that he has influence everywhere in this city, that everybody is either his ally or his enemy. There won't be anywhere to run to- and if he gets caught... He shivers at the implication of what would happen to him.

Erik nods, sightly calmer faced with Charles' sudden silence, but still fearsome in his agitation. "Excatly," he says, "So think about that before you talk about running off. Think about your safety. And Jean's."

Charles' heart stops. He stares at Erik, terror spiking at the mere mention of Jean, everything else forgotten. No-

Erik nods again, following Charles' train of thought which must be clearly displayed on his blanching face. "I know you wouldn't leave her behind. But would you really subject her to this kind of danger, all alone out there, a target?"

Charles swallows convulsively, fighting the swell of panic that is threatening to choke him. Erik isn't threatening her. He isn't. He wouldn't. Jean-

He crumbles right there and then, all of his false bravado, all anger leaving him when fear for her takes over, taking his breath away.

Erik, who has come much too close for comfort, looks down at him, stormy expression slowly softening again as he watches Charles deflate, mask slipping back in place. He raises a warm hand to Charles' face, the touch gentle and terrifying, and Charles doesn't dare move away.

Erik smiles gently. "There's no reason to be upset," he says, in a mockery of support, "It's just reasonable to stay, because you're safe here. And so is Jean."

Charles trembles. Everything inside him screams at him not to object, but this, he has to say, no matter what, "She is not coming back to this house."

He will never tell Erik where she is. Consequences be damned. Even if he never gets to leave here in one piece.

Charles squares his shoulders, prepared to fight Erik on this despite his fear, by any means necessary, no matter what Erik threatens him with.

But Erik doesn't get upset again. He doesn't even blink.

"Of course she is," he says flatly. "She's already on her way here."


	29. Chapter 29

"What?" Charles breathes, mouth feeling like cotton.

Erik doesn't even seem to register his fear, all calm pragmatism, "I had someone pick the kids up from Moira's. They'll be back within the hour."

And just like that it comes rushing back to Charles, hot and cold, that he told Erik he was going to Moira's. That this whole time he was thinking they were safe-

He feels the color drain from his face, ice settling in his stomach, dread weighing him down like lead.

"Where are they?"

Erik shrugs. "On the road I presume. I had them picked up-"

And just like that, dread boils over, turning into full out panic. Erik's people- Victor-

He gasps, trying to drag in air, but there are iron bars clamping down on his ribs, keeping him from breathing. His vision tunnels, and he blindly grabs for the couch.

Erik's hands find him instead, wrapping around his biceps and holding him upright.

Charles can't even think to shove his hand away, clutching at Erik's sleeve instead as he tries frantically to find his eyes through the haze, to find his own voice-

"No- Victor-"

"No, not Victor," he says sternly. "Not after how he stepped out of line yesterday. Calm down. They are perfectly safe, Charles. Just like always."

Charles tries to focus on the honesty in Erik's voice, tries to make himself believe in it, to calm down, form a clear thought, to tell himself Erik wouldn't harm children -but he can't, because he doesn't know that, and because it's too late; he's let himself feel the full extent of his fear for Jean, and now his brain is filled with nothing but her little face, her and guns and fire and Erik and his insanity and his threats. She's not safe. Erik has her, like he has him-

"What do you want?" he gasps, fingers digging into Erik's arm.

He can't even think to protest or resist anymore the way he tried for his own sake. He doesn't care, whatever Erik wants, whatever he tells him to do, he'll do it if only-

Very gently, Erik puts a hand under his chin, tilting his face up. His handsome features are filled with concern, displeasure, as he shakes his head slightly.

"Nothing more than what I already have, darling. My family. In our home. Safe. Happy. Together."

'Crazy. He's crazy,' Charles thinks feverishly, and yet he nods almost before Erik has finished speaking. It doesn't matter. Doesn't matter right now that it's madness, that Erik is asking the impossible. He just has to say yes, has to make sure Jean is safe, play along until he can get her out-

Erik watches him, face settling into a frown. He's not buying it, Charles realizes, heart racing. But what more can he want? Charles is already saying yes, what else-?

"Maybe it's too soon for the kids to come here," Erik mutters, concerned, doubtful. "It'll do them no good to see you like this. I'll arrange for them to spend the night somewhere else."

"No. No!" He's literally clinging to Erik's arm now, pathetic but uncaring. They can't stay with god knows who, one of Erik's lackeys. What if he hurts them? What if Erik decides he'll never let Charles see them again? "Please-" he chokes out the word, tears blurring his vision. He's going to pass out again, no drugs needed.

"Okay. Okay. Just breathe," Erik's large hands cup his face, pushing away his hair, wiping away the wetness around his eyes. "We'll bring them home...But for that we need to sort some things out first. They can't see you like this...so, we'll talk. After you let Hank look at your wrist. Alright?"

Erik looks at him inquiringly, like there is any way Charles wouldn't say yes now.


	30. Chapter 30

"Let me know if I'm hurting you." Hank says, nervously sliding a little closer to Charles on the couch so he can reach his arm.

Charles barely hears him, stupefied, his entire being occupied with the thought of Jean and the danger she is in. His mind is but one frantic scream. He has to get her out. Somehow. Save her.

He jumps, hissing in pain when Hank peels off the tape around his arm.

"Sorry," the young man murmurs as he begins pressing into the appendage like Erik did yesterday, searching for fractures.

Charles dazedly stares at his wrist, feels the pain licking up his arm like a flame, and thinks of how small Jean's arms are, how fragile. Logan did this so easily, thoughtlessly... The thought of the harm any of these men could do if they truly wanted to makes him nauseous.

"I don't think it's broken." Hank says somewhere in the fog, "Just a bad sprain. I'll put a cast on it and it should be fine in a couple of weeks."

He applies the cast swiftly and efficiently, taping it so it won't budge. "Would you like something for the pain, uh-?"

"Charles." He supplies his name mechanically, uncaring. No point in answering the question though, is there? If Erik wants him to take more painkillers, he will. If he doesn't, he won't.

"Charles? Charles Xavier?"

Hank's surprised exclamation pulls him out of his haze long enough to blink. Hank's eyes have gone wide, realization flashing in them. "You're Raven's brother."

Charles' head snaps up, eyes widening.

He didn't think there was something that could take his mind off of the fear for Jean, but there it is. His sister's name in the mouth of Erik's lackey.

"How do you know Raven?" he asks, breathless, rapidly paling.

"Uh," Hank flounders, suddenly looking like he's said something he knows he wasn't supposed to. "I don't, I mean-"

"That'll be all, thank you, Hank." Erik has stepped back into the living room, choosing this exact moment to interrupt them. Hank is on his feet in record time, barely taking the time to drop two tablets into Charles' healthy hand before he rushes to the door.

"Right, I- er, will check up on you soon, Charles."

And with that, the door falls shut behind him.

Charles is left staring up at Erik, a new kind of terror rising inside him. "How does he know Raven?" he croaks.

It's not a coincidence. Nothing is with Erik. Hank knows Raven, and if he does, then Erik knows of her, because he seems to have people everywhere, and if he knows then she is in danger-

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that," Erik says, the corners of his mouth hinting at displeasure with how the conversation came about. He sits down nonetheless, looking at Charles pensively, for endless seconds until Charles wants to scream at him.

"I'm not sure how to soften this," Erik finally says, brows knitted tightly. "Charles, Raven works for me."


	31. Chapter 31

"No."

Charles can't think to say anything else.

"Yes," Erik insists, "I know this isn't going to help you right now, I would have waited to tell you, but I guess in the end, it's best if you know everything."

Charles stares at him, disbelieving, shaking his head in denial without even noticing. No, Raven is in danger from Erik. She is not working for him, she's his sister.

"She doesn't," Charles protests, stubborn, shell shocked.

"Yes, she does," Erik insists, merciless. "We met through her in fact."

"But...the school," Charles says, hollow.

Erik shakes his head. "No. I was picking her up in town and she'd had a lunch date with you. I wanted to see you again, so I had Pietro transferred to your school."

It's hard to say what is more mind-boggling, more disturbing. What Erik is saying about Raven or what he is revealing about their first meeting.

So that was a lie, too, all planned, Erik knew what he was doing all along.

The thought makes him shudder, distracts him for a moment before his mind snaps back to Raven.

Raven.

It can't be. He shakes his head again. "She works for a law firm. She's gathers intelligence for-"

"Me."

The expression in Erik's eyes looks sickeningly like pity now.

Charles shakes his head again but Erik just keeps talking, telling him everything about Raven, private details, where she went to school, where she worked before, how she keeps changing her hair from blonde to red, how she likes her coffee. He specifically names numerous incidents of when Raven had to leave him in the past to go to work. For Erik.

"She doesn't know that it's me you're seeing, if that helps," he finally concludes. "Well, she does now. I don't know how she found out but I'm guessing it has to do with how you found out."

Charles listens to his words trickling into his mind like rain. He is petrified, afraid to even breathe because he knows that if he moves, if he disturbs the numbness that has taken over his body, he will shatter.

"She's with the kids by the way. I'm sure that'll put your mind at ease."

Charles stares ahead blankly, lips numb.

Raven's with Jean.

No.

Raven's with Erik.

x

x


	32. Chapter 32

Raven walks through the apartment door about an hour later, Jean and Pietro in tow.

Charles is in the hallway in a heartbeat, falling to his knees and pulling Jean into his arms when she comes running at him. She is unscathed and clearly oblivious to the situation, happily chatting about the movie she watched the night before. Charles grasps her tightly, like a lifeline, staring at Raven where she stands in the hallway, a multitude of emotions flashing across her face as she looks back.

There's worry mostly, disbelief, and anger as she catches sight of the cut on his forehead and the cast around his wrist, then guilt and shame.

Charles pushes to his feet, Jean still on one arm, and hugs his sister tightly, shaking. After a second she hugs him back, just as forcefully.

Holding her, both of them, makes Charles feel like he can finally breathe for the first time in what seems like hours. At the same time, the crushing fear he feels for his family returns tenfold and he wants nothing but to grab both of them and run out the door with them that second.

He can't of course.

Victor is in the hallway, he caught a glimpse of him when the door opened. He's still trapped. It's just much worse because now he doesn't just have himself to be scared for.

"We should talk," Erik says from somewhere behind them, coming out of Pietro's room.

Charles tenses, turning around to instinctively put himself in front of Raven.

Erik watches the motion, clearly not pleased.

"Jean, why don't you go play with Pietro in his room?" he suggests levelly, eyes never leaving Charles'.

Charles immediately clutches Jean tighter, anxiety spiking, but one pointed look from Erik has his grip fall slack. He doesn't want her away from him, but he wants her near Erik even less.

"Go ahead, darling," he says softly, fighting to keep up a pretense of calm as he sets her down.

Jean hesitates briefly, giving the adults an inquiring look before scampering off into Pietro's room without protest.

"Let's take this down the hall," Erik says, turning without waiting for an answer.

Left alone, Raven turns to him, guilt now the predominant expression on her face. "Oh, Charles," she mutters, distraught, "I didn't know, I swear."

"Raven," Erik calls from inside the living room, his tone carrying impatience.

Raven's expression turns from guilty to furious in a second, and she's stormed after Erik before Charles can get a hold of her.

He runs after her, fear thrumming through him, intensified tenfold when he sees his sister walk up to Erik and get in his face, raging.

"What the fuck, Erik?!" she hisses, eyes burning, "What the hell do you think are you doing?! Eight months and you didn't think to mention that you're marrying my brother?!"

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Raven," Erik says coolly, only to have Raven punch him in the face, full-frontal.

Erik sways, rage flashing in his eyes as his hand flies up to his chin.

Shocked, Charles rushes to Raven's side, hastily pulling her out of Erik's reach. Oh god, what has she done-

Raven shakes him off with surprising strength, not even the slightest bit fearful faced with Erik's bared teeth.

"Really?!" she hisses, "You don't have to explain why my brother, 12 hours after calling me scared for his life because he found out he's dating a mob boss, is standing here with his head cut open and his arm in a fucking cast, looking like he is about to pass out from fear?!"

"Raven, stop," Charles snaps, pulling harder at her. "Please!"

Pulling her back, he glances at Erik apprehensively, waiting for his retaliation. Erik's gaze, cold and hard as it bores into Raven's, turns to Charles instead, taking in his fearful expression. A moment, then he shrugs, letting his shoulders sag, a derisive smile on his face as he wipes blood from his lip.

"Packing quite the punch, your sister, isn't she? Do you still find it so hard to believe she's working for me?"

"You goddamn-" Raven shrieks, enraged, but Erik cuts her off.

"What? Screaming at me for not being honest about my job -but you can't even own up to your own part in this?" he snaps scathingly.

Raven falters, cheeks burning red with sudden shame. She falls back onto the balls of her feet, deflated. When she turns to look at Charles, her bright blue eyes are filled with tears, her mouth trembling.

"Charles... god, I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to be affected by this...I didn't know, I swear."

Erik answers before Charles can fully let her words sink in.

"Well, you did know about Frank Bennet, didn't you?" he says coldly, "You found him for me, told me where to find him."

No. Charles' eyes widen; he looks from Erik to Raven, cold spreading inside him when she doesn't even try to make a comeback, doesn't deny it, more guilt flashing over her face.

Erik looks down his nose at her, "You'll be glad to hear he's been dealt with. Not so glad perhaps to know that Charles saw us take care of him."

"No." Raven pales, lips trembling. She looks horrified, and Charles meets her eyes with the same expression when she spins around. "No."

The word is not a denial either, still not, Charles can see that immediately. It's dismay for his sake, not indignation at a lie, or even regret for what happened to Bennet.

The reality of what her reaction means hits Charles hard, sharp like a blade in his heart.

"You didn't," he whispers, distraught.

Raven just stares at him, miserable, silent. She says nothing.


	33. Chapter 33

xx

In the end, Raven leaves, shaking and tearful. Erik insists and Charles can't find it in himself to protest.

As though in a trance, he has listened to her feeble explanations, of how she needed money for college, of how she never wanted to hurt anyone, never wanted to hurt him. In the end there is nothing he can do but cry.

It is then that Erik says, 'Go.'

Charles is certain she would not have left, would have put up a fight under any other circumstance, but one look into her brother's eyes, the dismay and disappointment, the horror and estrangement in them, has her crumbling.

Left alone, Charles ends up just standing in the living room, motionless, unable to move a finger as his insides fight a bitter war, chaos screaming inside him.

His little sister.

The sound of a door falling shut is like a shove back into his body. He presses a hand to his mouth, rushing into the guest bathroom.

Erik is not far behind. He hovers, pushing Charles' bangs out of his face as he empties his stomach into the toilet.

A gentle hand presses a cold washcloth to the back of his neck, and Charles can't even find it in himself to give more than a weak flinch.

"It's going to be alright," Erik says, infuriatingly tender.

Charles doesn't reply. He wants to scream at Erik, but he can't, not with Jean right down the hall, and so he just sits there, shaking, with tears coursing down his face.

His whole life has turned to shambles in just a matter of hours and he feels like he has no control whatsoever anymore.

Yesterday, he felt happy, safe.

He had dreams and he had a sister.

He knew he had Erik to lean on if he should ever be scared or helpless.

Now, he has nothing.

Nothing but the shambles of his life at his feet and a homicidal mad man telling him that they just need some glue.

"I'm sorry, this is a lot," Erik says, sounding regretful.

Like Charles would ever believe him now.

He could stop this if he wanted...could let him go at least...but he's not. He's still pretending like they aren't irreperably broken.

"Please let her go-" he whimpers, despite himself.

Erik's hand strokes his back, up and down. "I'm not making her work for me, Charles. She came to me. She could leave but it would only leave her without support, without protection. I already explained...she's safer sticking with me. Plus, stopping now isn't going to redeem her from her past crimes if she gets caught."

"No..." Charles cries.

"Yes." Erik goes, on, firmer. "It's important you understand the magnitude of this, Charles. Your sister isn't innocent. For this alone, if anyone connected us to Bennet's disappearance, she'd go to prison for 15 years minimum. Not to mention all the other jobs she's helped me with. This is a very fragile ground we all stand on; you can't possibly know how fragile. If one piece falls, everything around it does, too."

But Charles does understand. Perfectly.

He retches, body convulsing.

"This is why we all need to stick together, Charles." Erik keeps rubbing circles into his back. "She is safe under my protection. I can keep taps on her, on who is watching her, talking to her, I can have people at her place to warn me if anything happens, just like the people watching the school. It's a safe system, believe me."

'Safe for you,' Charles thinks, 'escape-proof.' He says nothing though, because, as light-headed as he feels, he can't possibly forget the reality of the situation. He can't keep fighting Erik openly, can't make him feel like his secret is somehow not safe at all, or he will doom all of them, himself, Raven, Jean.

Shakily, Charles sits back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He sags, no energy left, not even enough to recoil when Erik pulls him against his shoulder. But then...he can't even do that, can he? Erik has complete power over him.

Charles stares at the bathroom tiles, eyes glassy. There is a strange emptiness inside him that comes with the utter loss of hope.

There he has it. His answer. Why Erik didn't seem worried about having to kill him, about him going to the police.

He knew he wasn't going to. Ever.


	34. Chapter 34

It takes him much too long to remotely collect himself.

In the end, Erik insists he move. "You're shaking. You should lie down for a bit."

The thought of going back upstairs with Erik is stomach turning. He shakes his head weakly as Erik pulls him up by his arm. "Jean-"

He wants nothing but to be with her now. Even though he technically knows that they are alone in the apartment and that thus she is physically safe for the moment, he just cannot stop fearing for her.

God knows if the kids have picked up on anything. He needs to check on them, make sure they are not upset.

Thankfully, Erik doesn't object, letting him wash his face and walk out of the bathroom without saying any more.

Not that he hasn't said enough.

"I'll be in the living room," Erik says and thankfully does not follow all the way into the kid's room. Charles barely keeps himself from running away from the man, clutching the remaining slivers of his self control with iron fists.

He needs to pull himself together, he can't lose it again...

Breathe. Just breathe. He forces himself not to think, to shut everything out for the moment as best as he can before he opens Pietro's door.

Jean and Pietro are sitting on the carpet, playing a card game, when Charles steps into the room. They look so at ease, so normal, that Charles can feel his fake calm crumbling instantly, the mere sight throwing him back to what he has lost.

"Play with us?" Pietro asks with big hopeful eyes, holding up the cards in his hands.

Charles forces a smile, taking the boy in with pain in his chest.

Pietro is so small, he has no idea yet what his father does for a living; he is untouched by this...or is he? With a shudder, Charles thinks back to what the boy said about Erik making his mother go away, to what Cohen said about him being disturbed. There is no telling really how much damage Pietro has already suffered, even if he looks fine now. Erik wouldn't harm his own son, that is pretty much one of the only things Charles is sure of right now...but who is to say his lifestyle hasn't done so, inevitably?

And Jean...his eyes wander to the little girl, his little girl. Even if Charles' compliance with Erik's demands would make her physically safe...she is so perceptive, so impressionable. What if she, too, is damaged by this?

And Erik means for them to stay...so it would only get worse. Even if Charles tried to shield them from trauma, from bad influences...

'Daddy made mommy go away.'

Remembering these words now, he feels sick. He can't believe that the warning signs were all there and he just wouldn't see. Pietro's mother is dead. Did she try to oppose Erik?

The longer he thinks about it the more clear becomes the inevitability that Erik will decide to kill him sooner or later.

He chokes on tears, throat closing up as he watches Jean playing innocently, oblivious.

Oh god...

He'll die. And she'll be alone.

They have to get out.

How? How, he thinks frantically, everything Erik told him spinning in his thoughts. There is no way, no out-

He hurries out of the room before he breaks down in front of the kids. Muttering something about going upstairs, he rushes past Erik and slides down the wall on top of the stair case.

The tears are back as he finally can't hold on to himself anymore.

Everything he's just tried to suppress rushes back, crushing him. Heartbreak, lost trust, trauma, fear for his life, fear for his kids, the loss of his sister-

Raven. He can't think of her now, of how destroyed he is by what he found out about her, about how disillusioned and abandonned he feels, or about how scared he is for her despite everything knowing that she is in contact with the likes of Shaw and Victor.

Not when the picture of her in prison, or dead, keeps flashing in front of his eyes. Oh god, he shouldn't have let Erik send her away...but she's safer out there, isn't she? Here, she wouldn't be able to help and only risk aggravating Erik and escalating things. Killing them sooner.

Charles presses his eyes shut tightly. He can't lose it, he can't, for god knows how Erik will react.

He tries to focus, to shut Raven into a little box in his mind, along with everything else. Just for a moment, just a minute, just a tiny bit of respite to gather his strength, to think-

He jumps when the door bell rings.

Seconds later, Victor Creed's voice fills the hallway, carried in through the open door.

"Boss, someone's here to see you. Says his name is Detective Scott Summers."

Charles' heart misses a beat.


	35. Chapter 35

Charles scrambles to his feet, heart beating in his throat the second he hears the name.

No-

Scott. He completely forgot, and now he's here, and Erik will-

Instantly panicking, he rushes down the stairs.

And all but runs into Victor Creed standing in the hallway.

Charles recoils, cold fear rushing through him at the sight. Victor turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised with a look of derision. The left side of his face is discolored, blue and purple, his lip split, like someone punched him in the face more than once.

Victor's eyes turn to slits the longer he looks at Charles, face twitching. Charles stares back, breathless, frozen, back pressed against the staircase. Victor smirks at the look of anxiety on his face, opening his mouth as though to say something, but in that moment Erik steps out of the living room, walking up to them and taking Charles by the arm, pulling him back slightly.

"What did you say?" he asks, voice sharp, and Victor turns and repeats his words from earlier.

"Copper's here. Jimmy's stalling him but he's pretty insistent. Says he'll get a warrant if you don't talk to him."

Erik's face darkens. "Bring him up then. Let's show him we have nothing to hide."

Victor turns, wordlessly leaving the apartment. Erik's eyes fall on Charles who is still standing with his back to the stairs, ashen and sweaty.

"You should wait with the kids. This won't be long. The cops know they have nothing against me, but they like to try to rile us up periodically." He sounds much too calm, like this has happened a hundred times before. This time though, it's not just some random police officer.

He has to tell Erik, as terrifying a prospect as it is. The man will find out anyway in just a bit and Charles doesn't want to be in the kid's room when things go down.

"I know him." Charles forces the words out. "He's here to see me."

Erik's eyes widen imperceptibly, fingers twitching around Charles' arm.

"I didn't call him," Charles adds hastily, stumbling over the words, "I just- he's my friend. I- I asked him about Shaw, because I was worried...and-"

"And he told you about me." Erik nods in understanding, frowning as he puts the pieces together. "Alright," he says after a moment, determination setting over his face. The sight fills Charles with dread.

"Let me send him away," he says without thinking. Fearing for Scott on top of everything else is proving too much for his brain to handle. Erik frowns and Charles flounders, "I just mean...he's worried. He won't go as long as he thinks I'm in danger."

Erik looks down at him for a long moment, too still, face unreadable, and Charles thinks he might have a heart attack, more so when the man suddenly leans in, cupping Charles' chin in his hand.

"You're not in danger," he says lowly, voice velvet and eyes liquid steel.

Charles forces himself not to move, hyperaware of the staircase already digging into his back.

He swallows. "I know."

The lie must sound pathetic, considering what he yelled at Erik not an hour ago and how he looks now, red-eyed and shaking.

And yet, by some miracle, Erik nods.

"Alright. You open the door."

With that, he lets go, thank god, and backs up, just in time for the knock on the door.

Charles walks over and opens the door before Erik can change his mind.

Then, Scott is standing in front of him, flanked by Victor and Logan, and Charles has to pull himself together with all he has so he won't break down again.

As with Raven, Scott's eyes immediately flicker from his head wound to his cast, widening in understanding, and then narrowing in anger.

"I'm here to take you home," he says without preamble, his tone different from how he would usually speak to Charles, which is likely to support his tough cop act in front of the mobsters.

His eyes betray it all though, his worry, his regret. He thinks this is his fault for not watching out for Charles.

It's almost physically painful to be forced to ignore Scott's distress and keep up his own act. Especially when safety and comfort is so, so close, and yet so very far. He wants nothing but to beg Scott to take him away, but he thinks of Raven and the kids and straightens his shoulders.

"What are you talking about? I live here."

Scott's face falls, hands clenching to fists by his sides, dangerously close to his concealed sidearm. "He found out, didn't he? He hurt you? Threatened you?"

The last two questions sound more like angry statements, like it's obvious. It probably is.

Scott is looking over Charles' shoulder, into the apartment, side-glances at Victor and Logan in the hall. He looks like he is about to shoot someone.

"No, of course not," Charles says quickly, trying not to think of the gun, of how dangerous this could become if he doesn't manage to calm his friend. "Everything is fine, you don't have to worry. I talked to Erik, we- he explained everything and we're fine."

Scott looks at him like he has lost his mind. "Explained? Explained what, Charles? You can't possibly still refuse to believe that he is a dangerous criminal, a killer most likely! But you don't, do you?! He's making you-"

Charles falters, false bravado beginning to crumble under Scott's insistence.

It's like Erik can read his thoughts, or maybe he reads the defeat of out the set of his shoulders, because instantly, there is a hand at the small of his back. Charles barely suppresses a flinch.

"Good day, Detective," Erik says smoothly, voice professional, almost amiable. "Wouldn't you like to come in, continue this conversation in the living room?"

It sounds like an innocent invitation, and maybe Erik really just wants to show he has nothing to hide, but Charles immediately tenses even more. No way is Scott coming in here, where there are no witnesses.

Scott doesn't move, merely looks at Erik with an expression of dark anger and disgust. His fists tighten when Erik rests an easy hand on Charles' shoulder, eyes flashing.

"No, actually," he bites out, "I want Charles to come out."

Charles shakes his head, interrupting for fear of what Erik's answer might be. "I can't right now, Scott. We're expecting guests."

"I can imagine what kind," Scott scowls, "Charles, listen to me. You don't have to be scared to go with me right now."

"I'm not scared,"´Charles says, one last time, resolute, too harsh in his desperation, "I don't need you to baby sit me, okay? I can take care of myself and I'm telling you there is nothing wrong."

It's not harsh enough.

"Charles-"

"Really, Scott?" Chalres snaps, flashing anger, "Stop it already, I'm tired of your paranoia! Nothing's wrong here. I'll see you when you've come to your senses."

He slams the door.


	36. Chapter 36

Charles closes the door on salvation.

The feeling of finally being lost in a fatal war zone, all alone, laps over him like a wave, burying him.

Raven is gone, Scott is gone. He is all alone.

He can feel the Erik's presence in his back and every fiber in his body strains to rip the door back open and run, just run, to scream for Scott.

But he can't. There wasn't and isn't a way.

Erik wouldn't have let them take the kids out of here, and even if he had...or if Scott had come back with police force...Erik's influence is too big. He would have come for them, angry. Angrier.

Charles stares at the closed door, trembling, not daring to turn around and face Erik.

He has brought a cop to his door...he has to be mad, feel threatened- Charles stomach twists into knots. If Erik is mad enough to hurt him...them...no one would know or care-

He has to fix this, say something, anything-

He turns around too fast, heart racing with barely suppressed panic.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know this would happen. He won't come back, I'm sure of it-"

It's desperate, and an obvious lie, but he can think of literally nothing else to do then to save them.

Erik meets his frantic gaze, looking more troubled than mad. "Charles, it's alright." His calm voice doesn't register in Charles brain, doesn't make sense.

"I understand why you'd worry for your friend, but don't. I won't waste energy pursuing him. He's no threat, whether he decides to listen to you or not. I told you: the PD has tried for years to get something on me, they never have...and all he has now is a grudge and you telling him you're fine. He'll can hardly make you leave me if you won't."

The smile that pulls at his mouth is almost soft at that. Charles stares at it, at his placid and completely self-assured expression and tries to let the words sink in.

There's genuity in Erik's expression, as much as Charles can tell anymore, satisfaction even, as though he actually believes that Charles said what he did because he truly felt that way.

'God,' Charles thinks, heart racing, 'He can't actually think that. It's a farce. He's mad. He's lying. Again. What if he kills Scott?' His stomach turns, nausea overtaking. 'But ,why would he lie? He has no need- No. He's not angry. Doesn't feel threatened. Agree. Play along. He wants to believe you're on his side, that's the whole reason you're still standing. You have to pull yourself together.'

Charles fights to regain control of his body, just enough to function again, to agree before Erik's patience and good-will fade.

Through sheer force of will, he nods, tries to somehow look like he feels actual relief. Like he was only ever scared for Scott all along, not all of them. Like he doesn't think he's talking to a powder keg of a mad man. He forces a smile. "Alright. Yes. Thank you."

He sees Erik's pupils dilate, just a millisecond before the man's arm moves, coming towards him.

Charles' back hits the door before he even knows he's moved.

Erik halts abruptly, fingertips stilled in mid-air. His eyes are widened in surprise for the fraction of a second, then his face rapidly darkens, jaw tensing as he stands back.

Charles tries to get himself to unfreeze, to fix his terrible mistake, but he can't even attempt to reign in his flight instinct faced with the storm clouds now rapidly gathering in Erik's expression. 'No, no- what have I done-'

"I- I'm sorry, I- didn't-" he forces out, but his voice trembles, betraying him just like his body.

Erik just stares at him, forever, gaze hooded and unfathomable, until suddenly, he turns around and walks away, back into the apartment, without a word.

'The kids-'

The thought that they might be in danger now, a possible target of wrath, all because of his stupidity, his nerves, is the only thing that gets Charles to unfreeze despite his renewed terror. He rushes after Erik without thinking, only to stop abruptly when he finds the man sitting on the living room couch, alone.

Charles stand, motionless, staring at Erik while the man sits with his elbows resting on his legs, looking weary as he lights a cigarette. Silence falls heavily between them as Erik takes a long drag, breathing in smoke and staring into space it seems.

"Sit down, Charles." he finally says, without looking up.

Charles forces his body to move, to obey even though ever fiber of his body strains to get away from Erik more than ever, simply because there is no other choice.


	37. Chapter 37

Charles sits on the couch, staring at some spot near Erik's shoulder, biting down on the urge to try and explain, apologize again, to do anything to make that cloudy, foreboding expression bleed from Erik's features. He's too afraid though too make things even worse, to fully unload Erik's anger.

All he can do is sit there and tremble in apprehension, dizzy, with cold sweat pooling on his neck, his hands.

'Why- oh god why, couldn't he have pulled himself together-'

The thought replays in his head, over and over again, frantic, even though he knows deep down that it was inevitable he'd snap...it's just been too much, and he can fight for control over his body as hard as he wants to...it's simply not enough. This isn't 'mind over matter', as much as he needs it to be.

It's just him, naïve, unprepared, soft primary school teacher Charles, hostage to a homicidal mobster, with the lives of everybody he loves hanging in the balance and the image of a charred corpse burned into his retinas. Realistically, he doesn't even know how he is still standing.

At this point, it seems like it's only adrenaline and fear keeping him conscious.

Erik drops his cigarette into a glass on the table. There is no ashtray because Erik doesn't smoke inside the house -he's full of exceptions this week, Charles thinks in a bout of hysteria.

The tiny flicker of gallows humor is immediately snuffed out when Erik looks up, eyes trained on him, piercing, sharp, features etched into a deep frown.

"What is wrong with you?" he sounds like he is holding back, a lot, but even though frustration is bleeding through. "You told me you understood, and still...I told you you're safe. The kids are safe. Even the damn cop, for your sake, I'm forgetting about. Haven't I proven- why are you still-?" He shakes his head, agitated, beyond comprehension.

Charles wraps his arms around himself, shoulders hunching instinctively.

There is nothing he can say if Erik doesn't understand now. Any normal person would understand why he is terrified, traumatized. Erik not understanding just makes this so much more horrid...the man seems to be either completely delusional or without empathy, and to this man Charles lied, told him he felt safe...and now he's found out and he can barely think straight from fear of the consequences, and all the while Erik is sitting there, asking him- demanding trust-

"I can't-" he chokes out, unable to lie, "I'm sorry, I just- I'm trying. Please, E-Erik, I'm trying, I want to- I just can't, my body won't- I can't stop seeing that m-man, can't control how I-" He feels himself breaking down, sinking down the couch and to his knees, muscles forsaking him. He can't even think to lie anymore, never could convince anyone now, can't even control the words that rush out of him. "Please, just give me time- I just need...I can do this, I just-"

There are black dots dancing in front of his eyes, but he is shaking so badly by now that he can't even try to wipe away the wetness blurring his sight.

He never sees or hears Erik move but from one second to the next he is there, his large frame folded around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He doesn't let go, even when Charles' body flinches again, merely pushes Charles' face into the crook of his neck and curls long fingers in his hair.

Charles is frozen, not breathing, tense all over and yet limp in Erik's hold, for long terrible moments just waiting for pain, for Erik's hold to tighten, to crush him. But Erik just holds him, a strong hand petting his hair ever so lightly, humming into his ear, words that don't make sense.

"Charles, stop...stop, sweetheart, it's alright. Stop apologizing."

It's not until then that Charles realizes he's still mindlessly forming pleas, muffled by Erik's suit jacket. He shudders, all over, blinking rapidly as he tries to gain control back over his body. It's no use though. He can only watch the train wreck now, someone else is driving.

At some point, Erik pulls him up and they're back on the couch, the man's arms still around him. He's still now, not because he is any less scared or repulsed, simply because he can't move, and yet, Erik's muttering turns encouraging.

"That's right. Just calm down. Everything's alright." He's all soft murmurs and warm reassurance now, and Charles trembles, caught, his mind screaming at him while his body is petrified. "...You're safe with me," Erik mutters into his hair, "try to focus on the part of you that knows that's true, even if your body is telling you something else right now."

Charles can't laugh at that. He can't even begin to will his body back into obeying his brain; it's shut down finally, in the worst moment, completely overwrought.

"I'm sorry, liebling," Erik rambles on, a parody of comfort, "I should have known better...expected too much too soon...It's not your fault. You're trying, I know. You can't help it. It's your body rebelling..you just went through too much in such a short time. Just close your eyes now. Rest. This was too much."

That, at least, is true.

Charles blinks, vision going black for just a second, and when he opens his eyes again, he is lying on his back, a blanket wrapped around him, Erik sitting on the edge of the couch with a glass of water in his hand.

"Sit up for a moment, yes?" he asks, still perfectly soft and calm.

Charles blinks, extremely sluggish still compared to the chaos raging inside his mind. He feels completely drained, on top of disoriented, and so his body barely reacts when Erik slips a hand behind his neck. "Drink something," he says, doting like the lover he played so well. Charles blinks rapidly, against traitorous tears welling up. He manages to take a sip of water and scoot away minimally from Erik as he sinks back down.

Erik looks down at him with a frown on his handsome features. "The kids are still playing," he says, anticipating Charles' thought process, "I think...it would be good for us to talk some more...to help you. Don't get up...just listen, alright?" Like there is a choice. Charles swallows hard, wishing he could black out again. He doesn't want to hear anything Erik has to say. No words will make him feel better...he just needs the man to go away...for it all to go away...

This thought, though, Erik somehow isn't able to read.

"I think it will help you get better...feel better...if I tell you more about what I do and why."

Charles wishes nothing more than that he could curl in on himself and block his ears then. That is the last thing he wants to hear, the last thing he needs. But Erik is calm and gentle now, optimistic and somewhat stable again, so he wouldn't object, even if he had the strength.

He tries to nod, but Erik doesn't need his confirmation to start talking.

"I've seen people react like this in similar circumstances. It will take some time for you to get over it, to sort through what happened and understand it all...but I think the best thing I can do right now is to be close to you, so you remember that you can feel safe with me always...and to help you understand that what you saw doesn't change what you know about me."

'Get away from me,' Charles thinks desperately.

"I love you so much, Charles," Erik says tenderly. He lifts one hand, the movement overly slow and barely there as he lets his long fingers ghost along Charles' cheek. "I knew you would take finding out hard...maybe that's why I waited too long to tell you. I wanted to protect you, to let you have that life free of worries and darkness. You were safe, so I decided not to burden you, again and again...maybe, if I'd told you sooner, instead of you having to find out this way, it would have been so much easier then for you to understand."

Charles stares at the fabric of Erik's jacket, eyes stinging.

He doesn't want to listen, but there really is no escape.

The pathetic thing is, as crazy as that sounds, Erik might even be right. As willfully ignorant as Charles was until yesterday, he might have even tried to rationalize his fiance's dark secret, to tell himself he could somehow understand and live with it. Erik would have told him some polished diluted version of the truth no doubt, played on his loyalty and their connection, and maybe, maybe Charles would have-

How cruel, or maybe lucky, that he walked in on the one thing that he couldn't possibly close his eyes to.

He wants to tell Erik that there is no point in lying now. Not anymore.

Instead he lies and listens as the mobster talks about how there are plenty of 'good reasons' for Erik's lifestyle. About how Shaw made him into who he is after he was orphaned and alone, about how he taught him to be strong long before Erik figured out he was a puppet. About how he cut the strings and freed himself of being a rook in Shaw's brutal and deadly quest for power.

Charles doesn't interrupt to mention that Erik clearly didn't free himself soon enough to avoid becoming just like Shaw. He stares at the couch instead and focuses on simply breathing regularly, while Erik tells him about how he doesn't hurt innocent or uninvolved people, how he only ever deals blows to those how threaten him and his, and how he only hits as hard as necessary.

Again, Charles does not remark on of how little comfort that is, given the situation. Or on how laughable it is considering he is telling it to someone who is uninvolved and innocent and definitely not undamaged by this, just one hallway separating him from the child he is holding hostage.

"Do you understand?" Erik cards his hand through Charles hair, "I do what I have to, that's all. To stay alive, to keep me...us safe. I'm all I ever said I was, Charles...I want everything for us. And we will have it. This is just a bump in the road. I promise."

Somehow, swallowing back bile, Charles manages to nod at last.

Erik smiles, relieved and pleased. "I don't expect miracles, Charles. The important thing is that you want to try to get back to normal. I will help you...just tell me what you need, yes? Whatever it is."

Other than leaving, or refusing, or speaking his mind. It takes the rest of Charles strength to not waste this small opportunity by cussing at Erik.

"I...I just need some time...space...just to process everything," he formulates the words carefully, highly aware of the risk of setting the mobster off again.

Erik only nods though, concern and understanding painted all over his face. "Of course. We'll go slow. Just rest tonight. I have some paperwork in my study. Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

Charles shakes his head.

"Alright," Erik pats his cheek one last time before rising, "I'm upstairs if you need me. Just call."

Charles holds out until the man has walked up the stairs before he loses the frail rest of his composure. He stays curled up on the couch for hours it seems, silently shaking and crying into the pillow.

When he finally pulls out of his hazed stupor, night has fallen and the smell of spaghetti fills the apartment. It is quiet in the kitchen though, the light dimmed, no sign of Erik and the kids.

Charles forces himself to get up, tiptoeing through the living room and down the hall, afraid to run into Erik. He just knows he can't take facing him again today. But he has to see if Jean is okay...he's left her alone for so long without meaning to...

He thanks the gods when he meets no one on his way down the hall. Judging by the light coming from upstairs, Erik is still in his study. The mere thought of having to go up there makes cold sweat bead on his brow and nausea churn in his gut. Erik touching him earlier was as terrifying as it was stomach-turning...there is no way he will go up there and be anywhere near him of his own free will.

If he even still has such a thing-

Charles swiftly turns away from the staircase and hurries towards the kids' rooms. Pietro is already slumbering peacefully in his bed, but Jean is curled up reading a book when he looks in on her.

"Hello, darling," he closes the door behind himself, resisting the urge to lock it. With a forced smile he sits on the bed and tucks Jean in. "Time to sleep, isn't it?"

"I'm not tired yet," Jean chirps, then looks at him with her tiny eyebrows knitted together. "You look tired though."

He is sure he looks so much worse than tired as hard as he tries to cover it up with more smiling. "A little. Do you think I could lie down with you for a little while and rest?"

He should keep away from her, because if Erik comes looking for him he doesn't want her involved. She won't really be safer with him here, no matter what instinct tells him. He tries to will himself to get up, but his body is heavy and being near Jean is soothing a tiny bit of the tension that is threatening to break him.

"Do you want me to read to you?" Jean asks happily, scooting over so Charles can rest his head on her pillow.

"Yes, please. But only for a few minutes," he murmurs, closing his eyes, "You need to sleep."

He is out before she has read even one page, exhaustion taking him.

His sleep is fitful, wrecked by night terrors. The first time he wakes up, he turns off Jean's night light and pulls the book from her limp hands. The second time he wakes with a start, frozen and heart racing as he stares at the door, half ajar. A dark silhouette is standing in the threshold, watching them.

Erik.

Charles holds his breath and feigns sleep, terrified that the man will come into the room, but after a tortuously long moment, Erik closes the door again.

Charles lies awake, pulse thrumming in his ears, long after his steps have faded down the hall.


	38. Chapter 38

Charles wakes up in a haze the next day, bone-tired and feeling sick to his stomach. He doesn't have even a second's respite. The memory comes immediately: he's still a prisoner in his own home, Erik is still a murderer, and life is still a nightmare.

The by now perpetual feeling of underlying, helpless panic is only slightly dulled by the fact that Jean is still peacefully sleeping next to him.

He lies and stares at the ceiling for countless minutes while dawn creeps into the room, unable to make himself move.

He has to get up, do something, but there is nothing he can do, or, at least nothing he wants to do. He can get up and somehow pull himself together and try to get through a morning of pretending with Erik, or he can bring this all crashing down, that's about all the choices he has.

He can't give up, he concludes. He needs to figure out something. For that though, he will need time and energy to really think, to try to formulate a plan, an escape, anything...

Get out first, think later, is all he can come up with in the end.

Bring the kids to school.

There at least, Erik won't be.

The thought of getting out of the house and away, if only for a little while, finally gets him moving.

x

"I don't think you should go," Erik says into his coffee, cruelly casual, knocking the wind out of Charles, and crumbling his painstakingly assembled composure.

"But-" Charles gasps, eyes going wide with shock, dismay.

He shrinks back a second too late, but Erik just lifts a pacifying hand, face pinched but not openly angry. "I'm not saying don't go back to the school at all," he says, too calm, "Just that you clearly need some time to come down, to properly process everything. It's too soon-"

'Of course.' How could he be so stupid as to assume he'd be allowed to leave? He'll never get out of here...he'll lose his job on top of everything else-

Erik breaks off mid-sentence, something in Charles' expression making him halt. His face softens imperceptibly. "Charles. You're a nervous wreck...you about jump out of your skin anyone around you moves."

Not true. Only people who have recently hurt him.

Charles snaps his mouth shut, against saying those words out loud, against nausea.

Erik keeps talking like he is on a different planet.

"I'm just trying to think of what's best for you right now. You don't need to be exposed to any more stress."

Desperate, Charles latches on to the only morsel of leverage he can think of. Erik wants this to work, for him to get better-

"I just think... I'd help me...the, the routine, you know...and Jean...being around her, I need-" he fumbles through the words, tense and uncertain, "Please, I- you said you'd try to help-"

He almost doesn't believe when it works. Since Bennett, Erik has seemingly been so numb to his fears and emotions that the sudden effect of showing his vulnerability doesn't seem to make sense.

And yet Erik says, "I suppose...if you really think it would help."

And Charles realizes that he does want that delusion of a happy life to return, to come true, even at a loss of his precious control. He grasps onto it like a life line.

"Yes, I think so. It...it'll be good, doing normal things, going back to before-"

And just like that, he has him.

"Promise you'll let me know if it becomes to much there. That'll you'll come home if it does." Erik acquiesces, and Charles cannot be fast enough in agreeing and then getting the kids dressed. Erik stand in the hallway as they pack their little bags, watching Charles watch them.

Charles bears his gaze with forced calm, counting down the second until he can get out, get away.

Luckily Erik leaves him be while he packs the kids' lunchboxes, typing on his phone instead. After the kids are all ready, Charles all but rushes to the front door, pulling it open.

He recoils, shock jolting through him when he almost runs into Logan's large frame blocking the threshold.


	39. Chapter 39

Charles' feet have him stumbling back out of pure instinct at the sight of Logan, so fast that the rest of him nearly loses balance and trips. He barely evades the kids, however not Erik, who appears seemingly out of nowhere, stabilizing him with a hand on his shoulder.

The semblance of calm Charles has been clinging to since getting up threatens to shatter right there, his heart stuttering and his whole body literally seizing as he feels himself being thrown back into the memory of being trapped between Erik and Logan, that night, when he was sure he would die, when Logan grabbed him and he nearly got shot-

"Charles," Erik breathes into his ear, too close, pressing down on his shoulder; louder he says, "Kids, wait in the hallway."

Charles instinctively surges forward when they scurry towards Logan and the door, fear spiking, but Erik holds him back with ease, waiting until they have passed his employe and are out of earshot.

Logan, meanwhile, is standing in the door without having moved an inch, face impassive as he regards the two of them, Charles shaking and Erik leaning over his shoulder.

"Charles, breathe. Calm. You're alright," Erik is back to being insane, "Logan is going to make sure you get to school alright and he'll pick you up, too. It's his job to keep you safe."

It sounds like some sick joke, with Charles' cut brow and sprained wrist still stinging, with everything that's happened, and yet, when Erik adds, "Or I could drive you," Charles says no almost too quickly.

Erik is still for a moment, grip not wavering, and Charles fears he might have been too hasty, but in the end, Erik only squeezes his shoulder one more time and wishes him a good day.

Then, it's only him and Logan, and he is willing his feet to move, following the massive man down the corridor towards where the kids are waiting. Logan doesn't say anything, nor does he attempt to walk next to him, and Charles ends up staring at his back as they make their way down to the parking garage.

His heart his still beating nauseatingly fast, fear triggered by the trauma of what happened the last time he saw Logan no doubt, and yet, it is not enough to eliminate the relief he feels walking away from the apartment and Erik.

'Calm down. It's fine. Nothing's changed. Logan does what Erik tells him.' 

Great, now he is going insane, too, coming up with a rationalization like that. It's all he has though, the relative certainty that Erik is serious about keeping him in one piece for now, as long as he is compliant. He doesn't know how, but somehow he manages to bring his heart rate back down to sightly-less-worrisome based on that thought-process.

It helps, too, to think that there was no choice other than going. He would have never let Jean get into that black car on their own, let her drive away for the day with no way to check on her.

He could have made her stay home as well, yes, and he would have if it had been Victor in the door.

Logan though, somehow, irrationally, feels like the lesser evil.

It's crazy, he thinks, walking through the parking garage, to feel less scared of Logan than of Erik or Victor. They're all murderers, ruthless. Logan nearly broke Charles' wrist, meant to drag him to his death- There is no reason to be relieved now-

Except-

He doesn't try very hard to push away the doubts that quickly come, because they are about the only thing that manages to ease his spiking anxiety at the imminent prospect of getting into a car with Erik's lackey.

Except. Charles can't help but to remember that moment when Logan faltered in the warehouse, when he let go of him...almost like he would have let him run out if there had been more time...and how he pushed him out of the way of the bullet, and grabbed Victor for attacking him-

Those last two things he did for Erik of course, so his fiance wouldn't get damaged, but...that's good isn't it? It means he will likely do the same now.

Keep him undamaged.

That is more than he'd be able to say if Victor was driving.

He shudders at the thought, feeling sick. He forces himself to push away the thought of the other brother, and how he looks at him sometimes...considering what he knows now, it's entirely too terrifying for him to consider.

Logan's indifferent attitude almost seems like a gift in comparison.

The man doesn't say a word the whole drive, doesn't comment on Charles sitting tensely pressed against the door, or the cast around his wrist. Of course not. His job isn't to talk. Charles feels relieved; it's much easier keeping his frazzled composure together without having to grapple for the right words to say every two seconds.

They get to the school without incident and Charles wordlessly leaves the black car behind with the kids in tow, having to force himself not to run away from it at full speed.

The feeling of relief and freedom he was hoping for doesn't last for more than a few minutes. He realizes this the moment Jean waves him goodbye to go to her own classroom. Charles stares after her, sick to his stomach, wanting nothing more than to run into the class and get her back, back to him, where he can see that she is safe.

He pushes the urge down, knowing that he will upset her, seem crazy, and that if Erik finds out he isn't handling this well, he might shut this whole thing down.

No, he needs to pull himself together. Be strong.

He needs to think.

His first class, he very uncharacteristically gives a long reading and writing assignment, has them work in groups, while he sits at the desk, wracking his brains.

He is free now, free of supervision...or at least he thinks so...he needs to come up with a plan, a way out.

They need to run, hide...but he would need to convince Raven to come, and for that he'd have to contact her first. He could use the school's phone to call her, but what if Erik is tapping her phone? If he gets wind of any such plans it will be over fast with the nice-guy-act.

But if they managed...where would they go? Erik knows about the mansion in England, not that he'll be allowed to live in it considering the amount of debt his late mother racked up. Anywhere else...but it would have to be far away, outside of the city, outside of the country maybe. And Raven couldn't come back, in case Erik frames -exposes- her. But to leave the country...Jean is not his official charge, not his daughter. They wouldn't let him take her. And even if...they'd need new names, wouldn't they? New passports?

Charles sits and buries his face in his hands in desperation. What he is thinking of is called WITSEC. He'd need the police's help. Which he can't get, not with Raven's involvement. Without them though, he hasn't nearly the kind of money or expertise to pull off an identity change.

'Are you really going to subject Jean to a lifetime of running? Always a target on her back?'

He shudders as the words reverberate in his mind.

No. No, there's no way, he thinks feverishly. But there is also nothing else, and the thought of going back to the apartment, of just sitting there and waiting for Erik to snap, to hurt Jean-

In that moment, randomly, a little boy playfully slaps his hands in front of his seat neighbor's face, a game, and the little girl gives a startled yelp, jumping.

Somehow, something inside Charles just snaps at that.

He barely mutters an apology to his class before he storms out of the room and across the hall, heart racing. 28 children and one teacher stare at him in confusion when he rips the door open, staring wildly.

Jean is sitting at her desk, not a hair out of place, confusion wrinkling her little face.

"Sorry, I need Jean," Charles mutters in passing Moira, without looking up. He all but runs over to her and pulls her out of her seat. He is rushing down the corridor and towards the back entrance, with the girl on his arm and Moira's car keys in his hand only second later.

"Where are we going?" Jean squeaks, confused and bordering on anxious, but Charles is too busy rushing them over to Moira's car to answer properly.

"Just for a drive, darling," he mutters, breathless, fingers clenched tightly around the keys. He just needs to get them away, now, that's all that matters, can't wait another second-

He unlocks the car and wrenches the back door open, buckling Jean in hastily before shutting the door and moving to the driver's door. His hand has just closed around the door handle when suddenly he feels a presence behind him. One second later, a large hand folds over his on the handle, stopping his movement.

"Big mistake, kid."


	40. Chapter 40

"Big mistake, kid."

Charles' heart misses a beat; he jumps, instantly recoiling from the hand clutching his. He whirls around, but trying to get away only leaves him trapped between the car door and Logan's hulking frame. It's another flashback, to two nights ago when Logan surprised and grabbed him, hurt him, and combined with the adrenaline already rushing through Charles' body, it's nearly enough to make his knees buckle.

Logan doesn't move though, doesn't even try to grab him again. He just stands there, one big hand braced again the roof of the car, looking down at him with a tight expression on his rough features. There is no doubt he knows exactly what's going on.

New horror rushes through Charles' veins like ice water, more frightful even than any memory. He's been caught red handed, trying to run – oh god, he's dead-

He doesn't expect Logan to say anything at all, much more to be dragged back to Erik's car and the apartment, towards doom immediately, but Logan just stands there looking down on him, jaw tight, "I woulda thought you smarter than this, Xavier."

He snarls when Charles just stares at him, frozen, white as a sheet, unable to even try and come up with a pointless excuse. "You won't make it half a day in this city if you just run. Is that somehow not obvious by now?" Charles cringes, balking at the angry question. He realizes too late that Logan seems to be waiting for an answer and nods hastily, thoughtlessly.

Logan just keeps frowning at him though, "Well, then I suggest you go back to your classroom and think good and hard before doing something stupid like this again. Because, if you run and I can't find you fast enough, I will have to call your fiance, and trust me, you won't like where that'll get you. Nod if you understand."

Somehow, through dread, Charles manages to comply. Logan turns away roughly, jerking his head towards the school. "Go, then. Back inside. I'll pick you up when school's over."

Charles doesn't have to be told twice. He grabs Jean and practically runs from Logan. He hurries back inside and tells Jean to go back to class.

He barely makes it into an empty storage closet before he breaks down, sinking to the floor hyperventilating between panicked sobs.

'No, no, no,' he thinks desperately as he fight to drag air into his lungs. What has he done?! He knew running couldn't end well, not without a plan, and yet he simply panicked and now- now...if Logan tells Erik...no, when-

The thought of the consequences of his actions leaves him dizzy, narrows his vision. Erik'll feel betrayed, no doubt, and abandon all attempts to be careful with Charles...he'll change methods, and after today, being trapped in the apartment will be the least of Charles' worries. All because-

Oh god, why would he-?

He is so stupid, so weak. He can't save them, couldn't even keep them safe for a whole two days-

He has no concept of how to get out of this, probably because there isn't a way, or maybe just because he is too messed up to see, unable to do anything but drown in helplessness and self-loathing.

And it's all his fault, he thinks, blinded by tears. For walking blindly into Erik's honey trap, for being too naive, too trusting. And now too weak. He got his family into this mess and now he can't even protect anyone, not Raven, not Jean, not himself...and worst of all, he can't even stay strong for them.

He stays in that closet, falling apart for hours, shaking and dreading, and finally completely wracked by all the emotions, the fear and anger and grief that he has had to hold back near Erik.

When the final bell rings, he isn't nearly prepared to get up and get Jean. The thought, however, of who will come for them if he doesn't, and how this all will just get so, so much worse than it already is, forces him to his feet.

Moira meets him full of worry and confusion when he walks into her classroom.

"Charles, where were you?! We looked all over, you just left your class! Erin had to take over and you know she's just an intern-"

He apologizes, numb, distracted, makes up some weak excuse about a stomach flu. He can feel Moira's skeptical gaze following them out of the classroom as they leave, but he doesn't turn around. There's nothing she can do for him, and all he can do is endanger her on top of everyone else.

Somehow, despite every fiber of his body screaming in protest and badly suppressed panic, he forces himself to get Pietro and then walk back to Logan, to the black car that is waiting to take them to Erik.

'Don't make it even worse,' he thinks, and then hysterically, 'If that's even possible.'

The car is running when they get to it. Charles can't see through the tinted windows but when he opens the back door, it is Logan waiting in the driver's seat.

He acknowledges Charles with a nod, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel while Charles buckles the kids into their seats with unsteady hands. He gets in next to Logan, tense, nauseous, full of dread.

They drive in silence for almost ten minutes, Charles thrumming with nerves, mind already playing through all the scenarios awaiting him at home. His heart is racing, faster and faster, cold sweat coating his palms. Will Erik be fuming? Ice cold? Will he even wait for the kids to be asleep before-?

He fights to keep breathing, too not pass out right there, locks down on flight instinct and tears with all his remaining strength, but he can feel himself shaking, rapidly falling apart.

"Hey," Logan's gruff voice pulls him out of his thoughts with a start. He jumps, head snapping around, but Logan is addressing the children in the backseat. "There's a new movie on the car TV."

Charles looks around, confused, the remark and Logan's sudden interest in children's entertainment not adding up until Pietro and Jean react by pulling their headphones over their ears.

He blinks rapidly.

Logan gives him a side glance and huffs, looking oddly displeased, "Maybe you ought to breathe out for a change now, kid."

Charles stares, taken off guard, but Logan just lifts an eyebrow, expectant and Charles lets go off the air he wasn't aware he is holding. He drags air back into his lungs immediately, loudly, a harsh, broken sound that he definitely wouldn't have wanted the kids to hear. With trembling hands, he loosens a button on his shirt, the collar feeling like it's choking him.

Logan's mouth seems to tighten for a second, but he is still facing traffic so it's hard to tell for sure. His fingers are lightly drumming on the steeringwheel again, and CHarles notices only now that his gloves are off. He finds himself staring at the man's knuckles which are faintly red and abbraided.

Charles stares at the marks, unable to make sense of them in his frazzled mind, until Logan clears his throat and pulls his attention upwards. "You should try to look a little more put together before we get back. You'll have Lehnsherr wondering what happened otherwise."

Charles stares dumbly. Wondering-? Why would Erik have to wonder when he already knows-? Logan isn't making sense, not his words, not the general advice, unless-

He catches on, finally, incredibly slow, eyes snapping up, wide as they stare at Logan.

"I haven't reported back to him yet," Logan has volunterred by then, answering without further waiting for the question Charles is so slow to formulate. "Figured it could wait since there wasn't anything of note to tell."

Charles just stares, breathless, afraid to believe what he thinks he's hearing. No, it can't be... Logan is Erik's, Logan doesn't care. But-

"You won't tell him?" he finally whispers, despite himself, despite the logical part of his brain screaming at him that he's being bloody stupid again.

Logan glances at him briefly before turning back to the street. "Nothing to tell," he mutters gruffly, "I got you there and now I'm getting you back. Did my job."

Charles stares in disbelief for a second, watching Logan's face for any sign of malice or lies. He finds none. Logan sounds serious, genuine, under that cover of nonchalance and Charles cannot help but feel a rush of relief, of hope. It sinks its hooks into him, unstoppable, and he feels himself breathing out automatically this time, lungs finally uncramping.

He doesn't even question the man's motivations, even though he knows that that is not all the makes up Logan's job, and that it's insane to just trust him, trust in this sudden, unreasonable change. It's the first flicker of hope he's felt all day, and no matter how insignificant and tiny it is on a greater scale, and no matter how fleeting it seems, he clutches it with the strength of desperation. If there is even a tiny chance that Logan won't tell on him, that Erik doesn't find out about what he did, he'll be safe for one more night at least, he'll have more time, and not all is lost yet-

"Thank you," he whispers, voice cracking over the words, with emotion.

He thinks he might break out in tears right there but Logan looks over with a frown, reminding him of his warning. They're nearly home.

"You got nothing to thank me for," the man says, on the harsh side of gruff again suddenly.

Charles looks at him, startled and confused, and finds Logan's eyes on the cast around his wrist, mouth twisted into an ugly frown. He stares, wordless, at the man's face, even after it has long slipped back into his default expression of indifference, his brain struggling to process what he thinks is happening.

They are home before Charles can manage to string two coherent thoughts together.

"He's waiting," Logan says as they get out, and he is done making eye contact apparently, back to strictly business.

Charles somehow pulls himself together, enough to visualize what he has to do now. He has to get it together, act right. Now. Everything hinges on him not betraying himself, or else anything Logan does won't be of any use at all.

"Go ahead, go with Logan," Charles tells Pietro after he gets the kids out of the car, and the little boy bounds off towards the elevators, to where Logan is already waiting. Charles lifts Jean into his arms, lingering for a moment before he has to start following the others.

"Jean, darling. I need you to do something for me, please," he says very quietly, looking at the little girl with as much urgency as he think he can get away with without worrying her.

"What?" she asks, her big eyes somehow more alert and serious than any 7-year-old's should have any right to be.

Charles swallows, hard, fighting for composure. "You can't tell Erik that we almost left in Moira's car today, alright? It's really important."

"Is he going to be mad?" Jean asks, looking worried and making Charles' heart break all over. It's been two days and already she's suspecting, anxious...

He wants so much to say no. But he can't.

"I'm so sorry, honey," he hugs her tightly, kissing her hair, "Everything's fine, I promise...just, I need you to not say anything? Can you do that?"

He feels Jean nod and fights back fresh, pained tears. He can't let her see...even though she can probably feel his tension, the trembling of his body anyway.

"Come on, guys, it's spaghetti thursday," Pietro calls from the elevator.

Charles hugs Jean one more time and then walks, quickly wiping at his eyes before he reaches the others. He has to be strong now, and if it's in the only way he can think of.

He can't let Erik see.


	41. Chapter 41

Erik is in the kitchen making dinner when they enter the apartment.

Logan has stayed behind in the hallway somewhere, as invisible whilst doing his job as he has always been. Charles forces himself not to look back, to push any conflicting thought regarding Logan out of his mind.

He can't let Erik realize something happened.

Pietro runs to greet his father, hugging his leg, and Charles instinctively clutches Jean to him more tightly. He watches from the threshold how Erik pats Pietro's hair, smiling as the little boy starts chatting away. They look so normal, so domestic, familial...

Erik looks up and smiles at him, warm, soft, and for a moment Charles feels himself frozen in an image of the past. It's gut-wrenching, and Charles can literally feel the color drain from his face, unstoppable.

Erik's smile falls, seems to turn rueful, and Charles struggles belatedly to pull himself together.

Normal. He is supposed to act normal, stable. He tries to smile, fake it at least, but his face feels frozen.

He sets Jean down reluctantly and follows the kids to the kitchen table where they sit and start talking away as though they can't feel the sudden tension in the room at all. Charles has a brief moment of intense gratitude that somehow Jean is completely inconspicous, seemingly immersed in light conversation.

Erik stands by the stove, his cooking momentarily forgotten as they look at each other across the kitchen table. Once more, Erik looks like he wants to move, close the distance between them, but whatever he sees in Charles' face, it keeps him in place. He covers it well, his casual tone nearly authentic as he turns back towards the cutting board, "You look tired, liebling, why don't you sit?"

So much for looking put together. He can only imagine what he looks like right then.

Somehow, Charles gets his legs to obey and move. He sits down, next to Jean, acting like he is listening to the kids as they talk about some art project. In reality though, he is staring at Erik through lowered lashes, shoulders tight, waiting.

"How were things with Logan?" Erik asks without looking up, light, "Everything go well?"

He's just asking because of his reaction this morning. He doesn't know.

Charles nods with forced calm, "Yes, it was fine."

He doesn't know.

Erik seems calm as he continues cutting the meat for dinner, but it's not reassuring. Erik seemed calm when he cut into Bennett, and he was furious then, wasn't he? Charles wipes his clammy hands on his thighs.

Is Erik pretending? Does he know Charles is lying to him?

Heart beating in his throat, he sits while the knife in Erik's hand glides easily through pink muscle and fat, seperating thin slices of flesh and tossing them into a sizzling pan.

Into the fire.

''Hopefully this will teach others to keep their mouths shut', Erik says, eyes dead, bloody knife in one hand, bloody tongue in the other.'

"So did you have any tests today?" Erik asks easily, igniting a new wave of chatter from the kids.

"No, but we played basketball in PE," Pietro recounts enthusiastically, "And Denny got hit in the nose with the ball. He was bleeding so much he had to go to the nurse!"

''He's not gonna bleed out,' Erik says, and throws his cigarette to the wet ground.'

Screaming fills Charles' ears.

He doesn't see anything but Frank Bennett's face until Jean is pulling at his arm, asking him to pass the salt.

Dinner is on the table. Erik has already dished out meat, spaghetti, and sauce, and the kid's are wolfing down the meal with minimal chewing, as usual.

Erik is looking at him over the rim of his usual glass of red wine.

"Your food's getting cold," he says lightly.

Charles tears his eyes away from the crimson of the wine and forces himself to stare down at the plate. He could not be any less hungry.

"So, how was your day? Anything interesting happen?" Erik's question sounds completely innocent, it's what he usually asks, and still Charles' heart skips a beat in fear that he might somehow know, that Logan lied after all-

"No, just a regular day," he says with forced calm, looking up long enough to not seem suspicious before dropping his gaze back to the spaghetti. Not the meat. He can't even look at the meat. All he is seeing is blood.

"Good, I'm glad," Erik says, and Charles can tell he is still watching him.

He spends most of the meal pushing food from one side of his plate to the other, and trying not to get affected by the terribly familiar and mundane stream of the conversation going on around him.

Erik seems every bit the attentive, involved parent he has ever been, and even the questions he addresses to Charles, the things he tells him, are all so familiar, so bloody, bloody usual-

Charles almost cannot believe he is actually doing this. When Erik said he wanted things to go back to the way they were he didn't expect him to actually follow through to this extent. He thought- he doesn't know what he was thinking.

There really is no reason why Erik would suddenly treat Pietro differently, obviously...but-

He watches as Erik carefully makes sure Jean doesn't cut herself on the knives as she begins her chore of clearing the table, how he opens the garbage can for her so she can more easily scrape off the plates.

It's like a knife in his heart is being twisted, watching this, being forced to live this farce and reminded of what he's lost. If only Erik weren't so convincing, if it didn't seem so real-

He looks away, the conflicting image of Erik the ruthless killer and Erik the loving father too much too take. He can't think about what's lie and what's insanity, and for what purpose it all is...he is just going in circles and his overwrought brain stands no chance of working through all of it. It's too much on top of everything else he is dealing with.

He needs a break. No. No break could be long enough to recover from this. He needs it to stop, needs to get off.

"Who wants ice cream?" Erik asks. Charles' fingers dig into his thighs, stinging.

God, he needs Erik to stop this act. It's sickening. And he doesn't even know for whose sake it is anymore. Pietro's most likely. The child would certainly suffer from dramatic changes in their dynamic. Considering he has one dead parent already...

"Charles," Erik says, and Charles blinks, pulled out of his thougts only to find that the children have already scampered off to Pietro's room.

Erik is sitting across from him with worry painted all over his face. "You haven't eaten anything," he says, the phrase loaded.

Charles stares at his plate.

"I'm not hungry," he tells the spaghetti, "I had a late lunch."

"Oh, yes?" Erik says conversationally, the tiniest tilt to his voice that makes Charles grow cold inside. "You should eat something more. You look pale."

Charles tenses further. Erik is ever-calm, but Charles can hear the tiny change in his tone. He's not asking, not requesting. This, apparently, is where the charade ends.

He stares down at his plate, miserable, stomach churning.

It's just sauce, just meat. It's not worth getting Erik upset about, not worth risking their well-being about.

If Erik feels like he isn't coping because he looks sick, isn't eating...he may well come to the conclusion that things aren't working out...

No. All he needs to do is take a few bites, get it over with. It's nothing.

He grabs the fork, doing his best to ignore the tremor in his hand as he picks up some spaghetti


	42. Chapter 42

He tries to eat.

He really does, even though his stomach is turning, and his eyes are tearing up at the sight of pink flesh. After some spaghetti and hopes it will be enough, but Erik doesn't move, just keeps looking at him expectantly.

The first piece of meat he swallows down immediately comes back up.

Charles rushes over to the kitchen sink, stomach heaving. He wretches, helpless to check himself, or to stop the trembling of his limbs as he clings to the kitchen counter.

"Charles-" Erik jumps up, and his hands are on his back, again, again, and it makes it worse, so much worse-

"What's wrong?" Erik has the gall to ask and sound shocked.

'What fucking isn't?' Charles wants to scream but he doesn't have the air.

"The b-blood..." is all he gets out, naming the thing that keeps flashing before his eyes.

Erik stiffens in sudden understanding, and Charles can hear the man cursing under his breath, agitated, like he has actually just realized what's going on-

God, how can he not -?

Charles manages to turn on the tap and wash out his mouth with trembling fingers. Then he pulls back, pushes away from the sink, meaning to get out of Erik's grip, but somehow he ending up on the floor, shaking so badly he scares himself.

"Charles-" Erik certainly looks worried now, too fucking late. He makes to drop down, whether to grab him or hug him Charles doesn't know. He cringes either way.

"Stop," he chokes out, too slow to bite back the word. "Gods, just stop, please, stop, I can't- can't-"

He cannot ever be strong enough to bear all this, Charles thinks feverishly. No one could, and he certainly can't in his state, not when his mind and body are a battlefield, a chaos of conflicting emotions and memories. Before his eyes, Erik, gentle and caring, comforting Erik, bleeds into murderous and cold, cruel Erik. The warm hands on his knees are stained with blood, blood, blood-

His thoughts are like a roller coaster that he can't get off of, the twists and turns leaving him dizzy and sick.

"Please stop, just stop, Erik-"

Again, he is stupidly, stupidly, pleading with the man that Erik was only ever pretending to be, praying to find that mercy and empathy that some childish, weak part of him simply will not accept never existed. He stares up at Erik, hoping against hope, against reason, to find the man who loved him, but all that stares back is death.

Erik grips his upper arms tightly, urgently, as he shakes his head. His eyes are alight, flashing with intense emotion, but there is no comfort in this; all it does is raise the hairs at the back of Charles' neck in fear.

"I can't just stop, Charles. I won't. This is my life. My influence, my alliances, are everything."

He's talking about the mafia, doesn't even realize what Charles is actually asking, as though he is utterly, willfully blind to how badly Charles wants to get away from him.

"Power is fickle," Erik says, completely tone-deaf. He lifts a hand and tilts Charles' chin upward, making him meet his eyes. Charles cringes, but Erik continues, eyes glowing darkly, madness shining through, "There is no good in getting power and then not holding on to it. It's dangerous even. If I let go, if I seem weak...all I have...built...it will crumble and be torn away. Evicerated even. Everything. If I don't hold on tight."

There is simple truth in the statement, in the shine of Erik's eyes. He believes this, it's obvious. Charles shudders, black dots dancing in front of his eyes.

Erik's fingers curl around his face, hot breath hitting pale skin as he leans in. "Do you understand why I cannot ever let that happen? There is no outside of power. There is just life and death, and those too weak to stay alive...there is no out. Tell me you understand."

Erik is too close, his grip too forceful. Charles couldn't nod if he tried to. As it is, he just sits with his back pressed against the kitchen counter, dizzy and petrified, sickened.

The message could not be more clear.

There is no out for Charles except death. Maybe not even that, if Erik doesn't allow it.

He sight is starting to blur for good, but he doesn't blink, grateful that the image in front of him is becoming less stark.

"Do you understand?" Erik asks again, deceptively soft, from somewhere above.

"Yes," Charles croaks.

"I'm glad." Erik's grip relaxes, his hand coming to rest along Charles' cheek. No need to hold on tightly; he's trapped anyway. He more feels than sees the man lean in even further, flinches when he suddenly feels hot breath against his lips. The dreadful anticipation of what he knows Erik means to do nearly breaks him out of his trance.

He half sees himself lashing out, shoving, hitting Erik with all he has, clawing, punching, screaming-

But his body won't let him move, apparently because it's understood better than he the inevitability of all this.

Erik. Erik. Erik.

Charles stays still, frozen, terrified. He understands. Wishes he didn't but does. This is all Erik, his game, his rules, his world. He wants power, over everyone and everything, but most of all over Charles. In any area, at any price.

And Charles will pay, will give in because he cannot afford to be broken.

Erik's lips have barely grazed his when a sudden Sound by the door makes both of them tense.

Charles startles, blinking furiously, only to find Logan standing in the kitchen door. He's seemingly come out of nowhere, accompanied by his usual grim expression.

"We have an issue," he says simply, "The car is running."

Erik take sin a sharp breath, fingers twitching, but he doesn't snap at Logan, or ask any clarifiying question. It seems he knows what is happening well enough not to lose time.

His presence is gone, from one second to the next, and Charles is left sitting on the floor, surrounded by cold, empty air.

"I need to go. I'll be back soon," Erik tells him, back no his no-nonsense business attitude in no time. Charles thinks he nods, but maybe Erik is already gone because there is no answer. Seconds later, the apartment door falls shut.

Charles just sits, forever, painstakingly putting himself back together, again, just enough, again.

Jean is sleeping peacefully when Charles sinks down on his knees next to her bed and curls up against the wall. He stares between her and the door for hours, but Erik doesn't come back.

He must be very busy. Taking care of business. Putting more deserving people in the ground.

No doubt he will be back again soon enough to continue where he's left off.

Charles doesn't know how and when he goes to sleep; all he knows is that there is no rest that night.


	43. Chapter 43

The next morning, Charles is woken from a fitful sleep when Erik open's Jean's bedroom door.

The man's expression is far from amused when he looks down at Charles sitting crumpled on the floor, but he doesn't say anything, merely reminds Jean to get ready for school.

Charles needs a long moment before he can will his body to move, but finally he goes - because he has to. He drags himself to the bathroom to wash up, feeling bone tired, sick and shaky, worse than the day before even. Yesterday's events are playing in his head like a nightmare, rattling, nauseating; there is no end to it, awake or sleeping.

The mirror shows his reflection, pallid, hair a tousled mess, eyes rimmed red. His sight swims slightly, fuzzy around the edges; there is a buzzing sound filling his ears, making him itch. It feels like he is at the very edge of a cliff, with no one to pull him back...and he can't find a balance, a hold...but he has to, he cannot fall.

Raven. Jean.

Charles exhales shakily and leans down to splash cold water into his face.

He jumps violently, heart skipping a beat, when he looks back up into the mirror and finds Erik leaning against the door frame behind him.

He turns around too quickly, clutching the sink for balance when his body protests.

Erik watches him, expression clouded, and dread coils in Charles' gut immediately. He doesn't think he can take any more from Erik, not after last night.

After a moment, it seems like Erik's expression smoothes over, but that doesn't keep Charles' heart from racing when he steps into the room, approaching. Erik's mere presence makes him feel sick with apprehension, no matter how calm the man seems.

Erik stops at too small a distance, regarding him with a tight lipped look of apparent concern. He doesn't seem angry, or threatening...but Charles isn't sure; his mind isn't reliable, seemingly interpreting everything Erik does these days as a veiled threat.

For a moment, they merely stand, at an impasse, Charles frozen on his spot and Erik seemingly waiting for something.

"You look like you haven't slept at all," he finally says, frowning, "...I know you need space to cope, and I want to give you that...but you can't neglect yourself like this, Charles. I feel guilty for indulging it."

Saying this, Erik actually looks sort of...contrite.

Charles just stares, once again tossed helplessly between emotional responses. The tear on his insides is instant, the pull between anxiety and anger, the urge to cower and the urge to scream, 'That's what you feel guilty for?'

"I'm trying," he says instead, hard pressed to keep any inflection out of his voice.

Erik nods, the lines on his forehead deepening. For a moment, he actually does look guilty.

"I made some porridge...for your stomach," he says when the silence begins to stretch, and Charles feels his throat closing up, eyes burning at his tone. He knows it's lies, Farce...but gods...

The last time Erik made him porridge was when Charles had a stomach flu and couldn't get out of bed. Erik didn't even go to work then, just stayed with him for two days and doted on him-

Just like that, all his anger dissipates back into pain.

Charles forces himself to breathe, staring past Erik's shoulder as he tries to catch himself.

Not Erik. Not real.

It's not real...but it makes it a thousand times worse, like what is left of him is suddenly crumbling. He needs Erik, his Erik, so much, ...he needs to be caught, needs that feeling of comfort and protection so badly now...and Erik is so close, just there...but he isn't. Because it was never real, never.

Last night was a clear reminder of what Erik's civil masks really hides.

He knows he needs to stop, that he is hurting himself...but he can't breathe, can't catch himself. Erik is too far and too close and he is too weak-

"I...thanks...I have to go though...to school," he chokes out, mindless, breath flat, eyes flickering to the door. He has to get out of this room or he is not going to keep up any semblance of composure.

Erik looks down at him, forehead creasing.

"Take it easy at school today," he then mutters though.

Charles nods again, counting down the seconds until Erik finally steps back and lets him walk away.

xx


	44. Chapter 44

Charles is nothing but grateful when he finally gets to leave Erik and the apartment behind. He already knows he'll likely be useless at school again, but as long as Erik doesn't realize this, it can still be his refuge.

As long as Erik doesn't find out...

Charles steals a glance at Logan, who is focussed on traffic and his usual silent self. An instinctual surge of discomfort and anxiety around Erik's employe still comes up in reaction, but by now Charles is mostly convinced it is trauma related, and nothing due to an actual current threat.

Logan has kept his distance ever since that night he sprained his wrist, even when he had every reason to do otherwise when Charles tried to run. He hasn't done anything openly frightening; on the contrary, he has even kept Charles' secret for some reason and thus protected him from Erik's wrath.

Charles cannot help but stare at Logan, quizzical, disquieted. He can't even pretend to understand the man's motivations, and it feels incredibly risky to believe, but any possible relief in his situation is something he can't pass up on at the moment. Either way, he'd rather dwell on the possibility of Logan being good in any capacity than to think about anyone else arround him right now.

And so he does, until they arrive. Logan hasn't said anything to him since the night before, and he seems content ignoring Charles now, so Charles is left to wonder about the man's motivations until they arrive at the school.

Once at school, he has to go apologize to Moira about his freak-out the day before. She seems very concerned and skeptical of his allusions to food-poisoning, but when Charles refuses to give in to her probing, she finally sighs and tells him that it is fine.

"Erin took over for you. The intern. I suppose it was good to give her some practice. You know, if you're not feeling up to teaching yet, you could always rest another day and let her-"

"No!" Charles says, too fast, backpedaling hastily when Moira blinks in surprise, "I mean, yes, she could probably teach my class today, but I should watch her. She needs feedback, too, yes?"

"I suppose," Moira frowns slightly, "Are you sure you're alright, Charles? You look terrible."

"Yes, yes, I'll be fine, don't worry."

He hurries to get to his classroom. Young Erin is thrilled to get an opportunity to teach for a longer period of time and Charles can sit in the back of the class, where no one is watching, and pretend to pay attention. It's as functional as he gets that day.

xx

It's the middle of the school day, towards the end of the fourth period, when there is a knock on the door and someone calls him into the teachers' lounge. Charles leaves Erin and the kids be, anxiety bubbling up as he walks over there. He mentally curses himself for being so apprehensive, but he simply can't help it, no matter how authoritively he tells himself that everything is fine.

xx

Everything is not fine.

He gets to the teachers' lounge only to find Scott waiting for him.

Charles' stomach sinks, anxiety breaking through at full force instantly.

No.

What is Scott doing here? He told him to stay away.

Doesn't Scott realize he is putting himself in danger?

"What are you doing here?" he hisses before Scott has even opened his mouth, agressive in his panic. Scott needs to get out of here. He doesn't know what Erik sees and what he knows...

"Charles, you need to let me help you." Scott's face is full of worry as he stares into Charles' certainly red-rimmed, blood shot eyes. "I know he pressured you, threatened you. It's obvious. I can fix this. Just come to the station with me now. You and the kids will be safe there, you can give a statement-"

Charles shakes his head harshly. No, he can't. Not for Raven's sake. Not for the consequences that will follow. But he can't tell Scott that.

"I have nothing to say, Scott, so please just go-" He walks back towards the door, tries to evade his friend's attempt at holding him back unsuccessfully. The detective's fingers are too tight around his arm, sparking all kinds of unpleasant memories. Charles feels cold sweat gather on his brow.

Scott needs to go away. But he clearly isn't about to walk away. "Charles-"

"Oh, there you are."

Charles didn't hear the door open again, but the new voice in his back he hears, and it makes his blood freeze.

Erik.


	45. Chapter 45

Erik.

Shit, what is he doing here?

He sees Scott's nerves flaring up for a millisecond before the man's expression settled back into anger. His fingers are digging into Charles' arm painfully now, refusing to let go even as Charles struggles to turn around.

He expects Erik to look just as angry as Scott, flinches when Erik steps into the room and closes the door behind him without looking away. His expression is placid though, like the surface of a black lake.

"You forgot your lunch, darling, I thought I'd bring it by," Erik holds up a bag but his gaze is on Scott, "Det. Summers, I didn't expect to see you. What brings you by?"

"Like you don't know," Scott growls, not even attempting to disguise his true feelings.

"I'm afraid I don't," Erik says, ever-calm, "but I must ask you to let go of Charles' arm. In case it isn't obvious to you, you're hurting him."

"And I guess that's your prerogative," Scott bristles but he does ease up on his grip.

Charles pulls away hastily, seemingly stepping towards Erik but really just trying to get inbetween the two men. He is terrified for Scott, and terrified that Erik might think he asked him here, that he is trying to betray him. Without thinking, he scrambles to rectify the situation.

"Erik. Scott just came by to apologize for yesterday. He was just leaving-"

"So much for not being scared of him," Scott spits, stupid, unstoppable.

Charles cringes, feeling the color drain from his face. He whirls around, hissing, "Stop it, Scott-"

Erik interrupts him, stepping up behind him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Charles locks down on every one of his muscles at the last second, staying perfectly still. "Don't get upset, liebling," Erik's voice is velvet as he lightly squeezes his shoulder and drops a kiss to the side of his head.

Scott's expression slips into one of unadulterated anger, be it because of Erik's motion or because he sees some part of Charles' true response before it's pushed down. Charles instinctively clutches Erik's hand on his shoulder, if only to keep the men from clashing physically. Erik makes an appreciative sound in his ear and Charles can only imagine the look he is giving Scott. He can't find it in himself to care though, soley focussed on deescalation.

"I think it's time you listen now to what Charles is trying to tell you, Detective," Erik says over his head, sickeningly confident, "This is getting rather out of hand. It's abundantly clear Charles won't be going anywhere with you, no matter how often you show up and I'd hate to have to remind you of the consequences if you don't stop harrassing us."

Charles flinches, heart thudding. No-

"What then?" Scott spits, "You gonna hide behind him now and then get me in the back later, like some coward-?!"

Erik is around him and in Scott's face so fast that Charles doesn't even have time to jump.

"Erik-" He stumbles forward, panicking, but the mob boss stops him with a lifted hand.

"It's alright, Charles," he says, too pleasant, eyes pinned on Scott, mere centimeters from his face. He is towering over him somehow despite Scott's own size. "I'm merely reminding our friend here of the legal consequences of stalking and harrassment. I have no doubt you have a long and steep career ahead of you, Detective, it would just be awful for it to come to an untimely end because of your own harmful actions, wouldn't it?"

For all the effect his civil words are having, Erik might as well be pressing Scott to the wall and put to his head the gun that Charles can just see peeking out from his waistband.

He stands frozen, heart racing and just dying to scream at the men to stop, but he knows that this is Erik's alternative to violence, and that he needs to cling to this, keep this up.

"You're right." He doesn't know where he finds it in him to step Forward calmly, but his expression is set and stern. "Scott, I want you to stop, alright? Whatever you think you're going to accomplish- it won't be helping me. I want to be with Erik. He's not a threat, he's my fiance. So stop. Go and leave us alone. Save us all the trouble. Please."

He steps into Erik's space for good measure, and forces his face into a blank mask when Scott looks at him, repulsed and without comprehension. Charles stares at him intently with his eyes only, inwardly screaming at the man to do as he asks.

"Fine." He wanted it, but his guts still coil into knots when Scott's Anger morphs into flat out rejection. "Fine, you know what, I will. You see where this will get you."

He steps back, shaking his head, and with one last cold look to Erik he leaves, slamming the door shut behind him.

xx

Charles expects the worst when Erik turns to face him. Anger, aggression, more thinly veiled threats.

His breath hitches when Erik lifts both hands to grab his face, but the man's fingers are gentle on his skin as he leans in to kiss his cheek. Charles shivers, feeling his hairs stand up, but Erik doesn't linger, pulling back with a pleased smile.

"I'm so glad we're on the same page again, darling, you're doing so well."

For all of Charles' failings at this lying game they're playing Erik is making up without fail.

"Let's just forget about Scott," he mutters softly, making himself lean into Erik's touch infinitesimally. It's all he can get himself to do, but it seems to be enough for Erik.

"I'd like nothing more. One can only hope though." He kisses Charles' hair once more, expressing his satisfaction with how things went, before he tells him he needs to go back to work. Charles doesn't ask him how he knew Scott was with him, too eager for the man to leave so he can break down at his desk.

It isn't so much a question of how as it is of who anyway. Erik told him he sometimes surveilled the school, and this only shows he wasn't bluffing. Charles has just assumed he meant Logan so far, because otherwise Erik would have found out about his escape attempt. Who else though? Is there one of Erik's lackeys watching the school from outside, seeing who comes and goes? Victor? He shudders, dreading the possibility. But no, he- or they would have seen him run, too, and told on him for sure. Cameras then? No.

As much as Charles racks his brain, he cannot figure it out. All he is left with is the lingering feeling of fear and loss that Scott has caused in him.

He won't be coming back though, judging by his expression at the end there.

Charles buries his head in his arms. Alone again.


	46. Chapter 46

The next few days, Charles feels like he is living on a powder keg about to explode.

It's not just his own tension, not just generally heightened apprehension on his part that causes this feeling; more and more, he is beginning to feel Erik radiate tension as well, different from his, but all the more worrisome.

With how disturbingly calm the man always acts it is hard to pinpoint what is going on, but finally Charles begins to suspect he is seeing Erik grow impatient, dissatisfied.

Which is incredibly unnerving, mostly because it leaves Charles in a constant state of uncertainty.

He just doesn't understand what he is doing wrong. He is doing everthing the man wants, everything he is told.

He is playing Erik's game as best he can even though it is much harder than he could have ever imagined. Fear for his family had him parroting Erik without much thought that first morning, unreflected, had him make promises that are extremely hard to follow with actions now.

Still, he is doing it somehow.

He never openly challenges what Erik says or demands anymore. He isn't antagonistic, and he tries his best to act calm and play the part of a family man. He doesn't try to contact Scott, or Raven, or anyone.

Alone at the school, he still finds himself breaking down at moments, unable to stop -but Erik doesn't know he spends his days not eating and crying unseen in the teacher's bathroom. Being at school is his only relief from constantly having to keep it together at home. At home everything is a struggle, from having to pretend that the food on his plate is becoming any less stomach turning to seeing Erik interact with the kids and acting like it doesn't make him want to run over and pull them away every time. A struggle, to not scoot away when Erik sits next to him on the couch, but to stay still when the man touches him even if the most fleeting, casual contact makes him want to cringe. Even if the subconscious urge to lash out, or scream, or cry, or run out never gets any less in Erik's presence.

Every day is just a straining, exhausting exercise of keeping it together, second by second, of pushing away all thoughts of Raven and Scott, and the blood on Erik's hands, and his broken heart, of making himself numb until he can barely feel himself, until he is reduced to merely functioning.

He acts just right and pretends not to know how feeble his grip on himself is.

And yet...

Erik isn't satisfied and it scares Charles to the very core of his being.

He doesn't know what he still has to give other than what Erik already has, can't think of what he could be doing wrong, and it's wrecking his nerves, making him even more of a nervous mess around the man.

Something's going to give sooner or later, he knows it, can see the status quo rapidly devolving, unable to stop it, and he waits, full of dread, for it all to come crushing down.

He doesn't wait long. On the eve of day five, Charles is just done tucking Jean into bed when Erik clears his throat by the door, motioning for him to come to him. Charles, who was about to curl up next to Jean, gets to his feet, apprehension roiling in his gut.

Erik takes him by the elbow when he stops in the threshold and pulls him into the hallway, closing the door behind them. Charles swallows, heart racing as he looks up at the man, his fragile composure already crumbling. He somehow knows what Erik is going to say before he opens his mouth, and yet, it's like a punch to the stomach.

"You look half dead on your feet, Charles. It's time you sleep in a real bed again."


	47. Chapter 47

"It's time you sleep in a real bed again," Erik says.

It's obviously not a suggestion.

Charles stares at Erik, feeling his insides rapidly grow cold, dread and nausea filling him. There he has it, he thinks. The answer, the thing he subconsciously knew Erik would say at some point.

So far he has forcefully pushed down any thought in the direction of sharing a bed with Erik, blocked it out. It was always there of course, that dark knowledge that this might, no, would, eventually happen, but he hasn't even been able to consciously consider it without spiraling into a full-out panic attack.

But now he cannot push it away any more, because Erik is pulling him down the corridor and towards the stairs, leaving no time for him to even try and mentally steel himself.

No, no, no, no, no-

It only takes him a second to realize that he is not going to keep it together for this.

He can't, can't.

There is no way out though. He can't oppose Erik, can't put up at fight, not with the children just down the hall. Not that there'd be any point. Shuddering, he thinks back to their last physical altercation and how easily Erik overpowered him, like it was nothing.

Will he do this like it's nothing, too?

By the time they're up the stairs and in their bedroom, Charles is near passig out. The sight of the dimly lit room alone makes his knees go weak as he flashes back to the last time he was in here, to the pain, and the terror, and to Erik completely going over what Charles wanted and doing his will instead.

He stands in front of the bed and feels tears pool in his eyes as he stares at the pillows they picked out together, at the family pictures on the nightstand, Charles' engagement ring in a little bowl next to them.

Is this how it's going to end then?

This dream, this perfect fantasy of happiness, finally completely shattered by Erik forcibly taking the last piece of him that has so far been left undamaged? By him ripping apart even the last remaining memories of them that are still somehow intact in Charles' head?

He flinches, hard, when suddenly hands land on his shoulders, panic threatening to break out. His breath hitches and he can feel his pulse in his throat, racing.

"Do you wanna go into the bathroom first?"

He barely hears Erik's question over the pounding of his heart.

"Charles?"

Erik turns him around to face him, frowning at his lack of response.

'No,' Charles cringes internally, 'don't-'

He nods, too fast, and blindly stumbles into the bathroom, away from Erik.

He goes through his evening ritual blindly, with shaking heads, sick to his stomach. The voice inside his head is still screaming, images flashing red in front of his eyes.

He can't even tell if he is more afraid of what Erik might do to him now, or more heartbroken at the thought of what memories he is about to lose.

'Warm, gentle hands holding him close, caressing him and making him feel so loved, so safe...'

'Ich liebe dich...I love you...kleiner Spatz...'

He doesn't know what's worse, that Erik said it, or that Charles believed him.

'Vertrau mir...ich hab dich...trust me, I got you...'

'I got you.'

'Ruthless hands restraining him, pressing his wrists into the floor, into the bed-'

"Charles!"

He doesn't even know that he's sunken to the floor, crumpled on the white tiles and staring into space, until Erik's touch drags him back.

He is pulled to his feet, Erik's hands strong under his arms, around his shoulders, heavy as they stroke back his hair.

"Was zur Hölle machst du nur?" It doesn't matter that Erik isn't speaking English, he is not processing words anyway, too focused on the muscled chest under his hands and his world crashing around him.

'It's best', he thinks, mind somehow still detached from his body, 'Cleaner. More honest.'

After this he can stop fooling himself, torturing himself. The thought doesn't stop his heart from pounding or his stomach from roiling. He closes his eyes, feeling a single tear slide down his cheek.

"Charles." Erik's hand on his cheek makes him flinch. "Look at me."

He should be looking at Erik. Should make himself see the whole truth.

It's the hardest thing in the word to pry his lids open.

Erik is blurred in his vision, pale eyes seemingly narrowed as he looks down at him, shaking his head.

"My god, what is happening to you?" he murmurs, "I don't understand."

Charles' brain is foggy, overloaded with the attempt of blocking out the image of Erik pulling a knife and cutting out Bennet's tongue with the very hands he's holding him with right now.

Erik's hand brushes back his hair and Charles' breath falters, vision turning from red to spotted black. He can't breathe.

'Please don't hurt me,' The words bubble up unasked, irrationally, even though he knows the mere notion is ridiculous.

Erik will do what he wants anyway.

Both of Erik's hands wrap around his face, grip firmer now, demanding his attention. "Charles, you need to breathe...what is going on. You're hyperventillating...everything's fine, you're fine-"

It's too much. Even though he knows it's pointless, even though he knows it'll likely only make it worse...the plea has come over his lips before he can stop himself.

"Please, I can't- I can't...I'm not ready, I-"

The excuses are pointless now. He never will be ready. Not for this. And whether Erik has finally realized that or not, he is clearly all out of patience.

"Charles," Erik's voice is maddeningly calm, a cruel parody of the gentle tone he's used with him so often. "I tried giving you space...it's clearly only making things worse." His eyes are so convincingly affected that Charles can barely hold his gaze. "How can we get back to living together as we have if we don't live the way we did before? This distance...it's damaging. It can't go on. Don't say no. I know you feel like you want to say no right now, but trust me...I'm sure this is a better way to fix things. Just like ripping off a bandage, yes?"

His voice is so soft, like velvet-covered steel...such madness in his eyes. Charles shudders, unable to stop himself from trying to pull back now, flight instinct kicking in.

Erik stops him though, pulls him flush against his chest, wrapping one strong arm around his back and resting another on the back of his neck.

"Shush," he mutters, gentle, like he can't feel Charles squirming under his hands. "It'll help, I promise. I'll hold you and we'll rest, and it will help you let go of stress, it will help you get over this irrational fear-"

Erik ushers him out the door and back into the dark bed room, uncompromising, and Charles, hung up on his last words, actually feels stunned enough for a second to let himself be pulled.

Hold? Rest?

What? Does he mean-?

There is no time to consider if the man is lying, or why, because by the time Erik eases them down onto the mattress, Charles' brain has switched back on, reminding him of the consequences of refusing Erik. He freezes, going stock still.

He can't fight.

He can't do this.

He can't, he can't he can't-

Erik pulls the blanket over them and Charles against his chest.

Charles feels his breath coming too fast, too shallow. It's too hot, and too cold, Erik's fingers burning into his skin-

"Shh..." Erik strokes his fingers over the racing pulse point on his neck, lightly, soothingly. He keeps Charles' trembling frame pulled close with one arm while his other hand moves on to leisurely stroke his hair in the same repetitive, predictable motion as before. He is muttering quietly, incomprehensibly into Charles' ear, pressing butterfly kisses to the side of his face, his ear, his hair.

"Ruhig...ganz ruhig...verstehe nicht, wovor du Angst hast...du musst niemals Angst haben mit mir...alles ist gut...mach die Augen zu...so ist's gut...gut..."

Charles lies stiffly, filled with dread still, waiting for Erik's hands to move, waiting to be flipped around, but the minutes just tick by with nothing happening.

Erik is just holding him.

Slowly, very slowly, Charles' adrenaline levels fall, pulse and breathing beginning to flatten out bit by bit... he tries to fight it, his brain never ceasing to scream in protest and fear, but his body finally just gives in to exhaustion and the deceptive safety of familiar arms. He's gone days without real sleep and the latest panic attack seems to have drained all remaining strength from his body.

In the dark, unable to see, all there is is Erik's warmth and his smell...disarmingly familiar and dishearteningly painful all wrapped into one. In the end, he loses the battle against his overwrought body, falling into a fitful sleep in Erik's arms with tear tracks still wet on his cheeks.


	48. Chapter 48

Charles blinks awake surrounded by darkness, looking around, disoriented.

He doesn't know why, but fear is coursing through him, cold and paralyzing.

He can't move.

There is a heavy weight on his chest, immobilizing him. He blinks against the dark, finding a flash of pale gray in midst the blackness.

Erik is straddling him, staring down at him with a cold, deadly gleam in his eyes. Charles recoils but Erik lets his hand snap forward, wrapping it around Charles' throat in a crushing grip and pressing him down. Charles gasps for air, filled with terror as Erik reaches under the pillow and pulls out a knife. The steel glints in the dim light as he lifts it over his head.

"Are you really this stupid, Charles?" he chides coldly, fingers cutting off his air supply, "To ever think I loved you?"

He plunges the knife into Charles' heart.

Charles wakes up screaming.

Dragging in panicked breaths, he blindly tries to move, to get away but the weight holding him down is still there, Erik is still there-

He thrashes wildly, blindly, clawing at Erik but the man stops him with terrifying ease, catching hold of his arms with one hand and pressing them to his chest.

"No-" Charles yelps but Erik slaps a hand over his mouth, cutting him off.

Muscled arms pull him tightly against a hard chest, holding him as he fights uselessly, silent and effectively immobile.

"Stop, Charles, verdammt, stop- the kids-"

That alone has Charles freezing mid-motion.

He sags, shaking in Erik's grip, breathing harshly against his unyielding palm, terror still possessing him tightly.

A dream. Just a dream.

There is no knife. He needs to calm down.

The children. Jean.

Erik is too close. Holding him too tightly. He died- the knife-

Jean can't hear- Jean, Jean, Jean-

He lies trembling against Erik's chest, tears streaming down his face, as he forces down the screams that threaten to escape his throat.

Just a dream. Just a dream.

Except its not.

Except Erik is a killer, except he cannot move, cannot get away-

"Charles, breathe, breathe, come on-" Erik is stroking his hair again, and Charles can't even recoil, trapped, trapped-

"It was just a dream, just a bad dream. You're safe, you're home."

"No, no, no-" Charles gasps, unthinking, uncensored, voice hoarse and cracking over tears, "Let go, please, let me go, let me go, please, please-"

"Vati?"

Erik freezes against him, movements ceasing in tense surprise.

Pietro. 

Charles snaps his mouth shut, going still in Erik's grip. Seconds later he is released, free to fall back against his pillow. His eyes snap around, towards the door.

Erik is already out of bed, kneeling in front of his son in the threshold.

"Vati, I heard screaming...did Charles have a nightmare?"

"Yes," Erik says, attempting to pick up the little boy, but Pietro evades him, looking up at Charles with worry all over his small face. "Was it a really bad one?"

Somehow, Charles pulls himself together. "No. No, it's fine now. I'm fine," he rasps, "I'm sorry I woke you. Everything's okay, buddy."

His performance is just good enough to fool a child in the dark.

Pietro falls back, seemingly relieved, and lets his father pick him up.

"Let's get you back to bed," Erik says, looking back at Charles before walking out of the room. "I'll be back in a minute."

He says it like he expects it to be comforting and not a whole new source of terror.

The second they are gone, Charles breaks down on the bed, shaking with sobs and terror.

His chest aches in phantom pain from the knife wound, this throat and lips and wrist burning with the memory of Erik's touch.

Whatever small amount of exhausted calm, of numbness, his brain had pushed him into lying in Erik's arms earlier, the nightmare has ripped it away.

He can't sleep in this bed, next to Erik...he just can't- whatever kept Erik from taking the last of him so far, he can't lie here and wait, dreading all the while what he knows is inevitable-

But he can't leave either, already knows that Erik wont let him. He has to do this, anything, and if it breaks him completely. He has to stay and try to survive, to be strong enough, even if he fails in the end.

He presses his face into the pillow, silencing his agonized sobs, forcing his body to obey, to artifically calm down, become numb again. It's hear impossible, but by the time Erik comes back into the room about 10 minutes later, he can at least uphold the semblance of calm again. His heart still races as the mattress dips under his weight, warmth spreading at Charles' back, but he refuses to flinch.

"Charles?" The touch to his shoulder is surprisingly light, and somehow he suppresses a shiver, stays still. He keeps his eyes closed, feigning sleep. Praying.

After a moment, Erik sighs heavily, giving up. He presses a kiss to Charles' head, knuckles brushing his cheek. "Just sleep, love...I've got you."

Charles doesn't allow himself to cry any more. He lies motionless, counting his breaths for the remainder of the night, refusing to fall from his waking nightmare into another sleeping one.


	49. Chapter 49

Erik is at the end of his rope.

He doesn't know what to do anymore with Charles. It's all just such a mess, such a frustrating, confusing nuissance.

As if dealing with Shaw's reappearance, Frankie's betrayal, and Raven and Victor acting out wasn't enough, he seems incapable of getting anywhere on the home front, and it's driving him mad.

It's been five days since that unfortunate incident of Charles seeing him in the warehouse. To say that the young man's reaction was a complete shock to him would be a lie. He's always suspected Charles would react badly to his true profession upon finding out about it, which is precisely why he never told him about it.

Him finding out was incredibly inconveniently timed, and of course not the soft introduction he'd been hoping to go with, but in the end he was confident that it would all work out anyway, that Charles just needed time and reassurance from him to get over the initial shock.

Time has passed now though, and he doesn't know what else he can say to Charles to make things go back to normal.

It's becoming more and more frustrating, so frustrating in fact that he finds himself wanting to smash things far too often these days.

Erik considers himself very adept when it comes to problem solving. That is how he got to be where he is in life. He knows what needs to be done and he doesn't fuck around. It's how he dealt with Frankie and it's how he knows that Shaw will be under control soon enough.

Unfortuately, the problems in his personal life seem to be beyond his expertise.

The worst part is, he just doesn't understand.

He knows that Charles loves him. Deeply. Irrevocably. Charles has always trusted him completely, with everything. At first he thought that was enough, too, because Charles told him he understood about Bennett, that'd he just needed a little time to get over the shock of what happened and that they'd be fine.

It's understandable that Charles' mind and body would be bombarding him with frightening, conflicting images and sensations that couldn't just be blocked out immediately. Charles is so innocent, somehow so untouched by the harshness of the world; he has hardly come in touch with violence at all as far as Erik knows, and it shows.

So Erik has given him time and space, to filter through all that has happened and separate what he saw from what he knows about Erik. To remember that he can trust him and to fully understand that nothing has changed. That he is still loved. That he is still safe.

At first he thought it was working, that Charles was working through it, but-

He's not. Charles tries to hide it but he is clearly suffering from PTSD. He almost always seems tense and skittish. Worse than that, all levity, all joy seems to have been sucked out of him as he visibly deteriorates with each passing day. He almost seems like a robot, just functioning, like there is no spirit left in him at all.

And that is killing Erik, seeing it happen but not being able to stop it. Charles should be getting better, but he isn't...

He just doesn't understand...can't fathom why Charles isn't snapping out of his initial shock already, why he doesn't seem to be processing the obvious tangible proof all around him that nothing has changed, that there is no reason to be scared. It makes his skin itch with the urge to shake some sense into his lover.

"I don't know what's wrong with him," he mutters, gaze sinister as he stares at the coin moving between his knuckles, "I've done everything I can to fix this but he is not getting better."

He wishes it was only worry he feels at Charles' behavior, but no, almost worse is the helplessness, the lack of control over the situation. He hates not being able to actively change what bothers him, is not used to things not moving the way he wants them to. The urge to push is growing by the second, made even more frustrating by the knowledge that it likely won't work, might even make things worse. With a deep frown, he thinks about Charles' insomnia, his nightmares. His attempts to help only ever seem to stress Charles out more...

"It's only been five days, Erik," Emma shakes her head, eyebrow raised at him like he is an idiot, "What do you expect?"

This, her sitting here in her pristine office in her perfect white pant suit looking down on him with her utter calm superiority, isn't helping his mood either. At least she hasn't picked up her usual notepad, probably knowing full well that she had better not treat him like one of her patients, especially now.

Still, he has half a mind to just get up and leave, to figure this out for himself. But-

It's not like he hasn't been trying to do that and come up with nothing productive.

Nothing has worked so far, not taking control of the situation as he did early on to provide stability to counteract Charles' panicking, and not taking a gentler approach and giving him space.

What more can he do than that?

Charles has always been such a bright presence in his life, but now it's like his light has died, and Erik cannot seem to bring it back, no matter how close he holds Charles, no matter how often he tells him he loves him-

Charles isn't getting over what happened, no matter how hard he is trying. He is not getting over his irrational fear, no matter how often Erik shows or tells him there is nothing to be afraid of, and no matter how often Charles seemingly agrees.

Charles wants to get better, of course, but he cannot seem to, and they are both helpless to fix him.

He hasn't been able yet to bring himself to tell Charles how hurtful this semblance of normalcy is that he is creating. He should be glad for, proud of, the effort even, but still, he hates this fake harmony Charles is inadvertedly creating.

He just needs the real thing.

He wants Charles' warm smile, and the light shining in his eyes when he looks at him that tells Erik he loves him. He wants the easy comfort with which Charles used to lean into him, he wants to hear him laugh again, and hum quietly, contently, as he's so prone to do. He wants his enthusiasm as he is telling Erik about a new scientific discovery. He wants him to smile at him the way he smiles at the kids. To be able to eat and sleep again.

He wants to help Charles, but he just doesn't know how.

Emma is his last Resort.


	50. Chapter 50

"I know he is trying to get better, Emma, I just don't know how to help him. It's like he knows he's being crazy, but his body won't listen-"

Erik rubs his eyes, exhausted.

He knows Charles can't just stop being traumatized, that even though his brain understands that Erik is not some sadist or serial killer he needs to be scared of, his body is still stuck in that night, seeing Bennett die. It doesn't matter that Charles didn't know him; it isn't about the person, just the shock it caused.

Erik knows that.

It doesn't help that Charles had the additional shock of finding out his beloved sister lied to him and is a criminal.

Erik has done everything to catch him. He's told Raven to stay away, he's made sure Victor stays away from Charles after how he scared him, he's even been ridiculously nice to Scott Summers.

All for Charles.

And yet, here he is.

He doesn't want to talk to Emma, but he's begining to worry about his own resiliance.

He doesn't handle helplessness well and he's already too on edge with Charles. He doesn't want to make another move without being entirely sure it's the right one.

Thus, the psychoanalyst.

Who, not quite unexpectedly but nonetheless to his extreme annoyance, has wasted no time so far in telling him that he is an idiot.

"Seriously, Erik? It's been five days. His whole life has changed. He found out his fiance is a mob boss and witnessed him commit a murder in the same night," Emma shakes her head, "You know, people spend years in therapy trying to get over far less gruesome incidents. Believe me I know, they are financing my lake house."

Erik scowls at her.

He fucking knows that. Knows that what Charles saw was bad, especially considering his naivete regrading the matter. But in the end, it's not like he even knew Frankie, or like Erik is some stranger who is coming after him now. Erik has told him all the facts and told him he is safe. There is nothing left to stress over.

Emma ignores his animosity with all the grace of someone who couldn't care less. "So let's recap this," she says, her tone making it perfectly clear that it is meant for his benefit, not hers, "You fall for this very sweet, somehow very clueless goody-two shoes teacher, and somehow you convince him that you are marriage material. Like honest, trustworthy, caring...all that good stuff. And then. The unthinkable happens. He somehow figures out you're not just a criminal, but no someone who rips out people's tongues and sets them on fire for a living."

Erik's scowl deepens. Of course she has to make it sound bad like that. Like he is all about those things.

"I told him it's just a job. And I have done everything since then to show him that what happened has nothing to do with us and our family life. He understands. That's not what this is about."

Emma raises a perfect eyebrow. "Are you certain about that? From what you told me it seems more like he is scared and trying to protect himself-"

"I know what PTSD is, Emma," Erik bristles, "Tell me how to deal with the stress response."

"Well, I'd suggest years of intense therapy and an immediate removal of all stressors," Emma says levelly, "but since you insist: regardless of the questionable assumption that part of Charles is convinced he does not have to be scared of you, your object should really be to continually show him that you are indeed safe and trustworthy." Her mouth twitches slightly, "Find out what scares him and work on that directly. Thouroughly. And for god's sake, put on the kid gloves."

Erik leaves Emma with new spring in his step.

She is right. He needs to tackle this problem at the roots. He's been far too passive for far too long.

x

Over the next few days, he keeps trying.

He tries his best to remind Charles of the best parts of their relationship, of all the times he proved his love and trustworthiness. He buys him white roses, the kind he gave Charles when they got engaged, he cooks his favorite meals, he makes sure to increase the amount of physical contact they have, gently touching or hugging him whenever he can.

It's all like pulling teeth though, like wading through a thick bed of honey.

For every time he asks Charles about his day, he gets the shortest and quietest possible answer, without any sort of passion behind it. Every time he suggests they go out to places Charles likes, the library, the movies, the park, all he gets is a tension filled refusal to leave the kids, like he was even suggesting that.

It is grating on his nerves, nagging, nagging, nagging...eating away at him, every second of every day, distracting him at work, making him more aggressive in his business ventures than he should be.

He needs some kind of outlet though, something to battle that horribly empty, restless feeling inside him.

Time. He wishes he could give it time, be calm about this. With anything else, if it made sense, if it was necessary for the end result, he probably could.

But he can't with Charles. Not when every day that passes by with this distance between them increases the ill feeling in his gut, the tight feeling in his chest...

He has Charles, but he doesn't, and it's driving him insane, making him sick.

Eight days.

That is how long he makes it before he realizes that being patient is simply taking too long.

x

 

x


	51. Chapter 51

At the end of his patience, Erik decides to send Charles to go see Emma.

Maybe she'll see something he has missed so far, maybe she'll be able to direct Charles in a way that will help him get better.

She is a psychoanalyst after all, and if Charles has faith in anything, it's the sciences.

Charles isn't on board immediately when he suggests it but Erik is quick to reassure him.

"She is trustworthy, don't worry. I've known her for a long time."

He doesn't actually trust Emma, of course not. The only one he trusts is himself -and Charles- but he watches Emma closely enough, knows enough of her secrets, that he doesn't need to trust her. He doesn't bother Charles with that distinction though, mindful of his lover's need to always see the best in people, no matter how risky it might be.

"Just try it, I think it might be helpful," he pulls Charles against him, kisses his hair reassuringly, "Talk to her, yes? For us."

After a moment, Charles nods against his chest and Erik squeezes his shoulder, happy.

It doesn't come easily to him, relying on someone else, giving up control, but for Charles, for them, he is willing to try almost anything.

xxx

Charles sits on the couch across from the well-groomed blonde woman, anxiously wringing his hands.

This latest idea Erik's come up with is not without its merits, mainly the fact that being here in the city means being away from the mob boss. Unfortunately, he finds himself just as on edge, nervous about Emma Stone's questions. She is coolly polite and professional in any way he can see, and god knows he needs therapy badly, but the woman is Erik's colleague, or friend or whatever, so she is no actual source of relief, just another mine field to maneuver through.

He cannot open up to her, not truly, because she will certainly tell Erik everything he says here, but at the same time he has to say something, can't seem uncooperative.

So he is sitting there, more and more unnerved with every question Emma asks him, because he can tell that the woman is smart, and not about to willfully delude herself like Erik. She'll see right through him. He ends up saying nothing, instead of lying, using all the rethorical skills he has to form the emptiest phrases possible.

He suspects Emma notices, but it's hard to tell what she is thinking under her professional mask, and anyway, it's all Charles can do.

"Erik says you're trying to get over your stress response, but just don't know how to. He wants me to help you with it. I'd like to hear your thoughts on that," Emma says, eyes sharp.

"I'm trying as hard as I can," Charles answers, "to make things go back to normal. I just...need more time."

Maybe she'll be able to convince Erik of that.

"I'd say," Emma answers, meaning-ladden.

Charles doesn't ask her what she is thinking. He doesn't know who Emma is in Erik's world of crime, but he'd be stupid to open up to her in any way.

"I told Erik that you need therapy, and a removal of all stressors," Emma says, surprising him, "but as you'll guess he isn't entirely...receptive to the idea. I'd suggest you tell him more clearly what exactly is stressing you and why...but I can already see what's going on there."

Of course she can. Anyone but Erik would.

Charles bites his tongue, saying nothing. She's so perceptive, so smart, but what's the use? She isn't really here to help him, just Erik.

"I've told Erik everything I feel." He just didn't listen. "Now I'm just trying to...make him happy. But it's hard."

"Well, it's admirable that you're even trying," Emma says, still full of double entendre, "Surprising even I'd say. Your family must mean a lot to you."

Charles looks up, fully meeting her gaze for the first time and seeing what he is suspecting in her blue gaze. She knows what's going on, what he is doing. There is no use in lying to her.

"It does," he answers gravely, letting his true emotions bleed through for the first time, "I'd do anything for them."

Emma nods in understanding, hearing him and yet somehow unaffected.

"It looks like you'll have to."

Charles swallows convulvisly, dread coiling in his gut. "What are you going to tell Erik?"

To her credit, Emma doesn't try to play dumb. "I don't really think it matters what I tell him, honey. Erik's going to hear what he wants to anyway. I'd wish you luck, but I think you're too intelligent to not know how this will end."

x


	52. Chapter 52

Charles leaves Emma Stone's office feeling more sick and dejected than ever.

Her candid words and true insights paint a bleak picture of the future, confirming his own fears.

Erik is mad to think that Charles will ever go back to the loving and carefree life they had. He will push Charles, further and further though, until he will realize this eventually, and that will spell the end of them if Charles can't get them out. Whatever hell he thinks he is living now will be nothing compared to that day.

In a daze, he goes to retrieve Jean and Pietro who are playing in Emma's waiting room. Logan is waiting outside, ready to bring them back to the apartment, back to Erik and the questions he will surely have.

Charles fights it, but he can feel himself unravelling as he walks them down the stairs. He feels like he can literally see his clock ticking away, his time running out. He is willing to give everything, lose everything, but it seems like that just won't be enough to stop or even slow down this gradual downfall.

Even if Emma doesn't tell Erik about her insights and just lets the whole thing play out naturally -which she probably will to keep herself away from Erik's wrath - the collapse is coming, nearing like a wall of storm clouds.

Charles gets into Logan's car silently, mind reeling.

He sits entirely still while, physically, he still feels like he is about to have a heart attack. Pointless, all of it, his mind keeps screaming. What's the point of even fighting. He has no time, no means to find a way out, no way of saving them. No one to support him. Emma Stone sees but doesn't care. Logan might or might not care just a bit, but certainly not enough to risk his own life, not that that would be enough anyway...

"Breathe, damnit."

Logan's warning voice, sounding dull as though he is hearing it through cotton, makes him aware that he is not breathing right, falling apart in the car once again, comepletely pathetic. He drags in a shaky breath, tries to pull himself together somehow, for the kids, but it's no use. Emma's words have hit him hard, reminding him of the sheer hopelessness of his situation.

Breathe, yes.

But his lungs won't inflate. His body feels like it's not getting enough blood flow, tingling numbly.

The kids are busy settling in to watch their cartoons in the back seat, thankfully distracted.

"I can't- I have to-" he whispers, choking, struggling to open his seatbelt, to get out of the car car again, so he can fall apart outside, unseen.

"Don't. Stay sitting," Logan says, his tone enough like Erik's that Charles freezes instinctively. "I don't want to have to explain to your fiance why you passed out and hit your head on concrete," Logan says, stilled dulled.

Charles doesn't answer because he is using all of his focus to stare at a spot on the windshield, counting and fighting for oxygen. He balls his hands into fists, burying them in his lap. They won't stop shaking, just like his pulse won't stop racing, even though he has to stop, has to calm down-

Logan's distracts him, talking on. "That book you always used to carry around with you," he says, out of context, "'Bout Darwin. You were telling the little ones something about mammals."

Charles manages to blink distractedly, confused. What?

"The ma-"

"Yes," Logan insists, "Their...orders or something. Tell me again."

Charles wants to look at him, to see if he is joking, or crazy, or- But he can't lose that point he is staring at without losing it, can't think straight-

Logan makes an impatient noise and Charles startles and simply starts talking.

"M- monotrema...Marsupials, Insectivora...Chiroptera, Lagomorpha, Rodentia, Carnivora, Artiodactyla, Perisodactyla, Edentata, Cetacea, Probocidae, Primates."

"Right," Logan says, "What else?"

Charles inhales, greedily dragging in the oxygen.

"Monotrema. Best example, the platypus. Characterized by being the only mammal that still lays eggs..." Without thinking further he begins counting down the well-known facts he's told the children before, "...Chiroptera. Bats. The name means flying hand...Lagomorpha. Rabbits. Different from Rodentia because of their ever-growing teeth..."

It takes him until, "Cetacea. Dolphins. Characterized by their torpedo-shaped bodies," to understand what Logan is doing. By then it's already working.

He goes through the whole list twice before he can start to breathe more slowly again.

By the third time, he has collected himself enough to realize that Logan is already driving and that they aren't on the usual route anymore.

He swallows, nerves fluttering. "Where are we going?"

Logan just shrugs. "The park. Figure you might not wanna go straight home."

Charles does turn to stare at the man then. The unexpected information fills him with relief and tension at the same time.

What?

Of course he doesn't want to go home, no, but he doesn't understand, and then there's-

"Erik-"

"He has an appointment," Logan says without hesitation, "He won't be home before six."

Charles cannot help that relief wins out for a long moment then, physically streaming through him. The thought of not having to see the man yet, to be given some more respite-

"So? The park. Do you want to go to the park?"

Logan's question catches him by surprise.

He was already dealing with the new information, but it takes him frighteningly long to realize that Logan is asking him to make a decision.

He can't remember the last time someone did that.

"Yes."

He's said it before he has even fully thought about it. It's just instinct taking over, pushing away suspicion and reason alike.

It's stupid. For all he knows Logan is no better than Erik or Victor, and he should be nervous about the man wanting to make this unexpected side trip, taking them away unscheduled...

All of that is in his head, even as he says yes. Facts.

And yet...he is feeling a strange calm caused by Logan, a sense of-

He doesn't know what it is. The way Logan looked at him in the ware house maybe. The way he tries to calm him when he wouldn't have to. Asking him a question like he is a person-

Charles can't think about how feeling this way probably makes him the most naive and gullible person ever. All he can think about is that he doesn't have to go home yet.

Logan pulls the car off the highway.

xxx

Tbc...obviously. Sorry if this seems repetetive. I know it seems like it's been a long time but Charles really hasn't been in the situation for too long yet and he is still trying to figure out how to cope. By repressing his emotions mostly so far, which, combined with a lack of sleep will cause him to snap like this at the smallest stressor. He just needs to sleep more :) And not be around mobsters. 

Don't be to hard on me when it comes to the biology stuff. That is literally all I remember learning in High School bio. It'll have to do :)


	53. Chapter 53

PLEASE READ: Sooooooo...here's what's happened. I went over most of this story to improve it and I made changes in nearly every chapter starting with chaper 23. Some changes are minor, some are bigger, so I would advise you to re-read the story if you can be bothered. You'll have the time cause I am not sure how fast new chapters will be coming. Sorry for the delay. Thank you for reading.

The story is longer now because there is new stuff in prior chapters, mainly extra scenes with Logan, Scott, and Emma.

xxx

Logan parks the car near a lake.

Charles gets the kids out of their seats and tells them to stay close by. They bound off to the nearby playground and Charles sits down on a bench so he can watch them.

Logan stays by the car, maybe doing something specific, maybe just giving him space. Charles can't bring himself to look, probably because that would require reflecting on what the hell he is thinking.

There are people about, couples, parents with their own children, enjoying a normal day out in the frosty sun. Charles thinks that that should make him feel better on some level.

It doesn't.

It's not that he really thought Logan would drive them off somewhere and hurt them in the first place. Even if the man was like his brother, he still works for Erik, and Erik would hardly tell him to do anything bad with his son involved.

No, whatever the reason Logan is doing this, he's relatively safe for now.

Charles breathes deliberately, trying to clear his head, to pull himself together. This too is only postponing the inevitable, pointless, but he is nontheless grateful for the respite, the break.

He stares at the frozen lake, the sunlight glinting off it blurred in his sight for a moment. Then, he looks back at the kids playing, wipes away a tear before it can freeze on his skin. How much longer will they have to play and be carefree...how much longer till reality will come crashing down on them as well?

Raven, he thinks, heart aching. Will he ever see her again?

He misses his sister so much, despite the pain she has caused him. He could always talk to her and he needs her so much right now. It's for the best, he tries to tell himself. Raven could be a sounding board, a comfort, but in the end she is also Raven. Any solution she would come up with would be fueled by anger at Erik and the reckless urge to protect. She would do something stupid and get herself in trouble for him, and he can't let that happen, not when all he wants is to protect her.

That leaves him with no one, and only his own mind reeling as he pointlessly goes through his non-options over and over again. Nothing. He just can't-

Something heavy lands on his shoulders suddenly and Charles jumps, forced out of his head.

Logan is standing next to him out of nowhere -god, he's blanked out again- regarding him with a frown.

"Your coat wasn't in the car," he says and Charles realizes belatedly that the man has dropped a jacket, his jacket, around his shoulders. He doesn't realize he is freezing, skin already numb and slightly violet, until that very moment.

"I left it," he mutters, distracted by the feeling of warmth that the fur-lined leather around him exudes, "...at the office, I think-"

He doesn't finish. No casual way of saying that he forgot to take it when he stormed out of Emma Stone's office because he was so upset.

"Better close it, your lips are starting to turn blue," Logan says in a non-answer. He looks like he doesn't feel the cold at all even now, but then, he is reasonably dressed in multiple thick layers while Charles was wearing nothing but a thin dress shirt.

Charles hesitates before moving to comply but Logan doesn't push.

As always he doesn't seem inclined to ask prying questions. He is just standing there, at a little more than normal distance, almost as though he is actually trying to give him space, and after endless days of Erik continuously forcing his presence on him, even the illusion of space is a relief.

It is likely just Logan's personality, or pragmatism, just him doing his job and not wanting to get too involved, and not wanting to get in trouble for letting his charge freeze to death, and yet to Charles the warm jacket suddenly feels like a hug. Something tightens in his chest, as much as he tries to push it away with reason, and he clutches the jacket tightly around himself.

He needs someone, someone there for him so badly, and he knows it's not Logan, it can't be – but still, something in him grasps desperately at the tiny morsels of perceived comfort. He wants to believe that the man might care, that he is not completely alone, even though he knows, he knows-

Logan is one of Erik's henchmen. He was there when Bennet died, likely helped bring him there. He didn't hesitate at all when stopping Charles and dragging him back to what he could only assume would be death. He is no better than the other two. There is no reason to feel any safer around him than around Erik.

Charles tries to hammer that fact into his head...and yet, all that happens is that he gets stuck on the memory of Logan's alarmed expression when he recognized him. Of how he let go- and how he practically jumped in front of a potential bullet for him...

It makes him feel like he understands nothing at all.

He looks up at Logan, into his unreadable face, and the question is out before he can check himself.

"Why did you bring us here?"


	54. Chapter 54

"Why did you bring us here?"

Logan merely shrugs, "You needed a break."

Charles doesn't know what he was expecting to hear. Doesn't know what to say to that.

In his own stoic way, Logan seems genuine enough, but even if so, what is this small kindness really worth? Helping would be to get them out of Erik's grasp, but, as they both know, there is no outside of Erik's grasp, no real help Logan could offer even if he cared enough to try.

"Thank you," he says nontheless, because it's not nothing.

Logan didn't have to do even this, and at least this way he gets some more hours of relative freedom while watching Jean and Pietro play happily. It's probably all he can still hope for.

He should feel some form of peace thanks to this maybe, but in reality, sitting here and watching them just feels so final, and the thought that he might never do this again after today only makes new tears slide down his icy cheeks.

"You know," Logan says after a moment, looking out onto the lake, "I used to think you were messed up...to be with someone like Lehnsherr."

Charles scoffs bitterly. "Turns out I'm just stupid, huh?"

That gets Logan to look down at him, a frown on his face. "You wouldn't be sitting here if you were stupid, Xavier."

Charles looks back, torn between hopeless indifference and self-destructive curiosity. He has no idea what Logan is saying. Of course he's a bloody fool. The worst. And yet, he asks,

"What makes you say that?"

Logan's gaze turns grave, uncomfortably intense. Charles struggles not to look away. "I've worked for your fiance for about a year now, and my brother near five years. I don't know of anyone alive who has seen Erik Lehnsherr commit a murder."

Charles flashes back to Pietro's mother, to Scott's files on Erik, and he shudders.

"Give it some time," he mutters turning back towards the lake.

He shouldn't be saying things like this, should be more mindful of the farce he has been trying so hard to play out for Erik's sake, but sitting here faced with the finality of his situation, he suddenly can't find it in him to lie anymore. What's the point anyway? It's not like it isn't all painfully obvious.

"It doesn't have to be that way," Logan says, taking a step towards the bench. There's an edge to his calm voice now it seems, just barely audible under the surface. Charles doesn't move, trying not to let the man's tension seep into him, to not react with aggression. There's no point. He's just calmed down. He doesn't have the energy for this.

"Oh, no?", he mutters tiredly.

"Do you really not know what I'm talking about?" Logan's voice turns noticibly sharp and Charles can't but look up, anxiety winning over at the man's tone. The way Logan is fixating him makes him want to cringe under the scrutiny. Somehow he stares back, but doesn't manage to convey anything but tense confusion.

He thinks he hears Logan sigh, or curse maybe, near silent.

"You know what shell shock is?" the man then asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

Charles blinks, now utterly confused by the turn of conversation.

"Used to have that term in the First World War," Logan shrugs, "Meaning someone's nervous system was stretched to it's absolute max, and had either collapsed, or was about to collapse. Caused by excessive trauma. They call it PTSD these days, neatly bury facts under jargon, but it's still the same thing."

Charles just stares at him, uncomprehending. Of course he knows what PTSD is. If Logan is trying to tell him what is happening to him, he is wasting his breath.

"I used to be a soldier, you know," Logan goes on though, surprising Charles again, "Seen my share and then some, so I'm kind of an expert on the subject."

"You were in the army?"

"Serveral armies," Logan corrects.

Oh, Charles thinks, some part of him coiling with anxiety. Logan is saying he was a mercenary. That is about the worst thing he could be telling him now. Or, it should be... Charles finds himself thinking again how odd, how conflicting, the man's behavior truly is. He is telling him he is an ice cold killer...all during this weird attempt at comforting him...

"Yeah," Logan goes on, "...hadn't been in contact with my brother for years, but when we...reconnected, he got me this job. He's told me most about Lehnsherr's past, more than most people know."

This, finally, has Charles abandoning his apathy.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asks, curtly, too sharp. He is not sure what Logan is doing, but he knows that he doesn't want to hear about Victor, and much less about Erik's past.

"I don't suppose he's told you much about his past." Logan goes on in the same way as before, as though he doesn't notice Charles' reaction. He looks Charles over, thoughtful, pitiful maybe. "No, he wouldn't have. Well, I think you should know."


	55. Chapter 55

Sorry I'm taking so long. Thanks for reading!

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"I think you should know."

Something, the wording maybe egocentrically close as it is to Erik's, or simply the audacious assumption that he would want to have this conversation now, makes Charles bristle with sudden anger, hot enough to boil over any exhausted apathy that has its grip on him.

"Well," he snaps, "in case it matters what I think- ugh, never mind-"

He shakes his head harshly, angry at himself immediately.

It's stupid to react this way, on so many levels, but the urge to get away from this conversation is nonetheless overwhelming. Charles pushes to his feet and makes to hurry away from Logan, towards the lake.

"No, wait," Logan says from behind and his big hand curls around Charles' good wrist.

Charles recoils, his body reacting instinctively to the memory Logan's hands have imprinted on his skin.

"Shit-" Logan lets go instantly, holding up both hands, looking almost as startled as Charles for a second. "I didn't-"

"No-" Charles shakes his head, too fast. It's obvious Logan didn't mean harm just now, the logical part of his brain can see that, and yet his heart keeps racing, his guts coiling. PTSD, yes. They've covered that, but bloody hell, he's a mess.

Logan flashing guilt in his direction does nothing to help.

The man's hands have stayed lifted in the air, like that might actually help, like this reaction is tied to any rational action.

"I wasn't- I'm not gonna hurt you," Logan says anyway, genuine and with a deep frown.

Charles can't help but give a bitter laugh at that, at both of their ridiculousness, but the sound quickly catches in his throat and he covers his eyes with one unsteady hand, breathing deeply.

"No point in telling me that," he says after a moment, with a flash of humor bordering on hysteria.

He's not even sure if he is trying to voice his crazy feeling of trust in the man or the simple truth that the words change nothing at all about his situation, whether he believes them or not.

Logan's eyes, however, immediately darken and flicker down to the cast on his wrist. His expression then, if just for a tiny second, is enough to completely push Charles towards belief, making something tug at his heart, unbidden, sharp.

He was right, saw it even then, that night, that Logan regretted having hurt him instantly- the shock on his face a sure sign that he cared-

"It's not broken," he says stupidly, unreflected.

Logan's reaction makes it obvious what a senseless comment this is.

Charles finds himself flustered, hazed and confused. Not broken, so what? How is that relevant to anything standing between them? Where the bloody hell is his mind?

Charles groans in frustration, pressing the balls of his hands to his eyes.

He doesn't have the energy for this pointless, pointless, pointless carousel ride. Not again.

All energy seeping out of him and leaving him feeling drained, Charles slinks back to the bench with sagging shoulders.

"Forget it," he mutters, defeated. He won't solve this problem; he is just giving himself the headache he so desperately wanted to avoid. "Just...tell me what you wanted to say."

Maybe if they get this over with fast, he can still have some peace out here afterward.

He can feel Logan's heavy gaze on him as the man possibly considers where to start or whether to sit, but he doesn't look up again, just waiting dispassionately. Talking about Erik may be inevitable, but he is not getting the ball rolling.

"I know you don't want to hear about him," Logan says, surprisingly, instead of just launching into his tale, "But it could help you, knowing this. You and the kid."

Charles does look up at that.

Logan takes this as his cue to sit back down, at the opposite end of the bench. "I was trying to say earlier...I know PTSD when I see it. All kinds. I knew what was wrong with Lehnsherr almost the day I met him, even before Victor told me."

Charles blinks in surprise. He wasn't expecting the conversation to turn to Erik instead of himself.

But...he doesn't understand? Erik-?

He shakes his head harshly. "Is this where I get the sob story about how the world made him into who he is? Because in that case, let me save you the trouble, that will not help me in the least."

He is a very empathetic person, but he won't feel bad for Erik after all he has done, voluntarily, without a conscience. Even if it was possible to somehow justify his actions through anything, even if Erik's remorse seemed the least bit genuine-

No. He wouldn't, he tells himself mentally, firmly. He wouldn't.

Charles struggles to not immediately get back up again, so strong is the urge to get away from the budding feeling Logan's words are dragging up inside his sore chest. Fuck...no...

Logan watches him with a frown, maybe feeling his torment. "I think it might help. Not to feel bad for him, mind you, but to understand his psychology. You're a smart man, Xavier, I think you'll find this useful."

Charles blinks, looking questioningly into Logan's eyes. Is he saying what it sound like he's saying? No, no he wouldn't-

"Lehnsherr," Logan goes on, undeterred, "he has the mentality of a soldier, even though he has never been to war. Not in the classical sense at least. I knew this the day I met him. Everything is war to him. There is only black and white in his world. Only victory or death. Only his side and the enemy. It's why he is so successful...the mindset makes him ruthless and nearly without weakness. Many people are like this if they've grown up feeling a constant threat to their life. It's the only way they could survive, the only way they know how to anymore. Lehnsherr...he grew up under Shaw, after the man killed his mother. I wont go into detail...you don't want to know. The important thing is that in order to survive that hell, he had to change, become they way he is now, broken but unbreakable. He may seem like a monster to you, but he's no sadist like Shaw, he doesn't enjoy torture and despair. He only does what he has to in order to defend what is his, without compromise."

Charles stares at his knees, shuddering, cold inside and out. He didn't know this, and the struggle between disgusted fear and pity for Erik is gripping him tightly. His mother-

Jean.

Charles stares at his cast and forces down the swell of empathy in his chest. It's not an excuse...it's not. He tries to focus on what else Logan has said, about Erik's mindset, but it is nothing that he hasn't figured out for himself or heard from Erik yet.

It doesn't change anything. It just reminds him of his dire situation.

"How is he better than Shaw," he mutters, hollow, "if their methods have the same results?"

"It might not make much of a difference for anyone else," Logan answers, "but it does for you."

Charles just stares at him blankly.

"You really don't understand, do you?" Logan shakes his head, looking incredulous, "I told you there is no one alive who saw him commit a crime. That's because he allows no threat to himself, no matter how small. Don't you wonder why you're still alive? Still walking around here? After what you told him? After your cop friend?"

The man's words have become more and more agitated, demanding.

"I-" Charles stares, foggy eyed.

Logan shakes his head with a heavy sigh. The look he gives him then is somewhere between piteous and piercing. "You slipped through the cracks, Xavier. He loves you, enough to see you as belonging to his side. I didn't think I'd ever see it, see him put anyone but himself and his son in that position- but you did it somehow. In his mind you're on that side, invariably, that's why he won't hear what you're saying. How could his epic love ever leave him if it's true enough to have broken through his shields?"

Logan's thick brows pull together as he leans over. His hand lands on the back of the bench, clenched around the wood like he is keeping himself from grabbing Charles' arm again, gaze intense, "Do you understand what I'm saying? I know you can't think you're fooling anyone with your pathetic act. It's nothing but his willful ignorance that's fueling this."

Charles stares up at Logan, breathless, torn between wanting to lean away and wanting to lean closer. He basically knows what Logan is saying, but hearing it like this, said with this urgency, is sending his heart flying, is making his stomach cramp up. He almost knows what Logan is going to say before the man goes on.

"This won't last. He will see eventually if you go on like this," Logan leans in even closer, urgent, "Your only advantage is how badly he wants to believe you're on his side. That is what's kept you alive. And that is what gives you power."

"Power?"


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this took forever and now it's super short I know, shame on me. I'll try to get back into this, however, work is crazy. I have this all planned out, so it's a shame. Maybe I'll do really short chapters...
> 
> So, dear readers, what do you think Charles should do? Will do? Will he suceeed? ;)
> 
> Cheers, happy reading!

“Yes, power. Of course. You’re his only weakness. He doesn’t want to see the truth so he is willing himself to be blind when it comes to what you do and say. He’d see through everyone else but you- You have options that no one else can even dream of...” 

Logan stops, reacting to something he sees on Charles’ face. 

“What are you suggesting I do?” Charles asks, carefully blank, dry-mouthed and shaky despite his neutral tone. He’s so scared to believe he is actually hearing this, part of him still waiting for the trap to snap shut, for Logan to run straight to Erik with all this.   
If anything convinces him of the opposite though, it it the equal amount of worry and hesitation that Logan is hiding poorly as he chews over his response.  
“Not suggesting anything, bub,” he shrugs offhandedly, lighting a cigarette. “Just stating facts. You just happen to be in ear shot.”

So help but no help. Logan is to afraid. Worried maybe, wanting to help even possibly, but unwilling to risk his life over it. Charles knows he cannot resent that, especially not knowing what Erik does to traitors. Still, the spark of hope Logan’s words alone light in him is so faint and weak that he has to give it his all to not simply let it flicker and die out. It’s dangerous, this tiny hope. Those parts of his brain that are still aware he is technically a genius when his brain is not a pile of mush are already picking up the concept and running with it, spinning it in a hundred different directions a minute, like they’ve been lying in wait all along.   
Charles knows what Logan may or may not be saying. What he could do because of this weakness that Erik has allowed to emerge in him. He could lead Erik to ruin, to prison, to death even....he could run circles around him, playing him like Erik played him...if only....

Aside from the faint reminder that this is not to his carefully groomed and reflected moral standards - sod those, Erik’s long beyond those - Charles knows that starting on that path would require a huge amount of strength. He’d have to play the part so much better than this, would have to come so much closer, be so much more convincing....there’s no telling what he’ll have to do. He would. To save Jean and Raven he would, he think, no matter what the sacrifice on his part.

The question is if he can pull it off, go through with it, if he is strong enough. If he starts this and crumbles at any point half way through.... he shudders at the thought.  
Logan is right, if Charles ends up on Erik’s list of enemies by betraying him he will wish for death long before he gets it. 

The thought is so terrifying that he almost lets it die right there in the snow. 

But...

“It’s going to end badly if I do nothing, too,” he says out loud, as though to himself. Logan doesn’t need to hear him spell it out, Charles lets him see his resolve in the way his shoulders get squared as he walks back towards the car.

“I’m ready,” he calls over his shoulder, wanting nothing so badly as to believe.


End file.
